Blades of Epsilon
by Nathan J Xaxson
Summary: Excalibur. Masamune. Durendal. Even the Lightsaber. Zanpakutou that became famous because they fell into the hands of humans. But power corrupts - and Rukia, Nanao, Momo, and others discover firsthand what can happen. Action, drama, romance, tragedy and triumph - all with shades of gray for the sophisticated reader. Be prepared - this is not your grandmother's fairy tale.
1. Prologue

**Blades of Epsilon  
**_by Nathan J Xaxson  
__A sequel to the Kuchiki Salvation Trilogy_

**Rating:** T+, for:  
- Content thematically aimed for an older audience  
- Moral shades of gray that are intended to provoke intelligent thought  
- Action scenes with explicit violence  
- Strong and occasionally crude/vulgar language  
- References to and even mild depictions of sex

I did not designate an M rating because it does not contain explicit nor extended illustrations of sex, nor does it contain graphic depictions of gore. However, it is not recommended for readers under 15. Despite these warnings, the content in this story is really not any more objectionable than anything else I've previously written.

**Author's Note:** This story is a sequel to my Kuchiki Salvation Trilogy, "Save This For Kuchiki", "Save Me, Kuchiki", and "Saved For You, Kuchiki". Reading this story without reading the trilogy will likely leave you scratching your head in many places. Go read those first; they're worth the read anyway. Otherwise, there will be major spoilers - I have included a recap chapter for those of you who haven't read the trilogy recently and need a refresher. :)

**Author's Request:** I have worked very hard on this story over the course of a year to really try and push beyond my comfort zone. I've tried to take myself above and beyond of what I thought I was capable of to produce a story that touches upon themes, ideas, and characters that some would be afraid to write about. With that said, I want to request from my readers to try and push their own boundaries: even if this story isn't along the lines of what you might expect, or even if you wouldn't normally read something like this, please push forward and see if you can enjoy something unconventional. The greatest reward I can get is for you to allow yourself to come along for the ride, even if you're not used to it. Thanks! -njx

**To my devoted readers: **I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your patience. I hope it was worth it.

**Special Thanks to **stormcrowley and Fading into the background for all of their help.

**Fanfic dot Net Limitation: **I apologize, but this site filters out combined question/exclamation marks, so you'll often see a space between them ("_You can't be serious! ?_").

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

**_"There are no such things as fairy tales."  
_**_~ Kuchiki Hisako, sometime far into the future_

* * *

_Prologue - Six months before the present - or if you prefer, nine and a half years after the past_

Tatsuki could not believe her eyes. Neither could Ichigo. No one could.

"Holy _shit_," Tatsuki swore.

"Is that...?" Ichigo stuttered.

"This is _not_ happening," Tatsuki said, shaking her head. "Who in the world would be that _insane_?"

Ichigo couldn't even think. His brain had shut down with his eyes glued to the television; the images there so harrowing that he had an instant urge to call everyone he knew, just to hear them still alive.

The breaking story was the same one that every other person around the world was seeing. Caught on camera, it was among the most trepidation-inspiring things either Tatsuki or Ichigo had ever seen - including hollows and shinigami traitors. The news channel relentlessly let the clip cycle over and over, as though it was so unbelievable that only repeated viewings would let people absorb the horror.

It was the Eiffel Tower toppling over, killing thousands of people, after two perfectly-timed explosions detonated one complete side of the foundation. The metal spire collapsed to the earth, crushing buildings and destroying roads. Secondary explosions fired as gas and power lines were breached, and in the span of twenty-three seconds, the lives of humans and shinigami alike were irrevocably changed.

* * *

_WARNING: THE NEXT CHAPTER IS A RECAP OF THE TRILOGY THAT TAKES PLACE PRIOR TO THIS STORY - MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD! _


	2. Flashback Recap

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

**_Author's Note:_**_ This chapter is comprised of flashbacks to the Kuchiki Salvation Trilogy. I highly recommend you read those first. -njx_

* * *

_"Sure there are, Sako-chan. You're just saying that because you haven't read any."  
~Shihoin Zarina, sometime equally far into the future _

* * *

_Recap: Save This For Kuchiki_

"Shiba Kaien strongly believed that you held great potential, more so than anyone else in the entire division." Ukitake put his hand on Rukia's shoulder. "Turn over the badge and read the back, Kuchiki."

Rukia slowly turned over the badge and saw a rough inscription. Despite the fact that it was basically scratched into the metal, she still recognized it as Kaien-dono's handwriting. When she read it, she could not help but begin to feel the tears well in her eyes. She read it over and over:

"Save This For Kuchiki"

...

She fell to her knees and bowed deeply to the floor, clutching the last of the gifts - the one for her zanpakutou - close to her chest. "Arigato gozai mashi ta, Nii-sama," she uttered, stifling her tears as best she could. "I will be eternally grateful for these incredible gifts."

Before he departed, Kuchiki Byakuya turned his head so that she could barely see the edge of his face. Slowly, clearly, and deliberately, he cautioned, "It is not befitting the Pride of the Kuchiki House to bow so deeply to anyone," and without another word or even a facial expression, he left.

...

A messenger corps soldier flashed in front of the entrance, and announced, "Candidate for the 13th Division Vice Captain seat, Kuchiki Rukia!"

...

"Before we bear witness to this shinigami's sacred oath, does anyone challenge her resolve?"

Suddenly, a figure flashed into the center of the arena, halfway between the entrance and the stage. "I, third seat of Squad 13, Kotetsu Kiyone, challenge her resolve to take this oath!"

...

"Don't ignore me, Kuchiki!" Rukia's glance was returned to Kiyone as her whip lashed out and cut Rukia on the cheek. "Don't you dare ignore me, you tramp! If you think I'm done, you're sorely mistaken!"

...

Kiyone started swinging her whip in a wide circle above her head. "Masticora's Parade - BANKAI!" Kiyone screamed, jamming the spike at the bottom of her hilt into the ground.

...

Rukia raised her voice so that the whole arena could hear her: "Saigo no mai, nisshoku shiro."

Huh? Kiyone wondered. 'Last Dance, White Eclipse'? What the...?

"Bankai," Rukia whispered, but the entire Sereitei heard it - for no one dared to make a sound.

...

"You forget, Kotetsu Kiyone," Rukia menaced, brandishing Sode no Shirayuki and reflecting the glare of the moon directly in Kiyone's eyes, "that with the added gravity, the swing of my sword will feel like the crushing weight of a mountain."

...

Ukitake sighed. "You don't need to ask my forgiveness. It's my fault, I should have known something like this might happen."

Somehow, Rukia knew just the right thing to say. "Love is complicated, Ukitake-sama," Rukia offered. "It never resembles the naive tales one reads about in even the best of stories."

Her captain was quick to agree. "Yes," he nodded with a smile. "I guess in hindsight, Lieutenant, we are both extremely fortunate to have acquired that particular piece of wisdom."

Rukia smiled. 'Lieutenant' had a nice ring to it; she could get used to that.

-:-

_Recap: Save Me, Kuchiki_

What... happened?" Kiyone creaked, trying to find out what in the world was going on.

"Rukia-sama saved your life," Isane began quickly, and with a suprisingly stern voice. Kiyone couldn't tell whether her sister was angry through the tears, but she was clearly assertive.

...

Kiyone broke it with a soft-spoken question that she barely managed to eek out. "Do you think that... maybe in the future, things may change between us?"

Ukitake's eyebrows arched, but they returned to their normal position as he gave a tiny smile. "I'm not going to bother thinking about tomorrow and beyond right now, Kiyone-chan. I'm too busy coping with the troubles I have today. But I will tell you this, I cherish what I have right now. Maybe it would be best if you focus on what you already have."

...

"I will only say this once, Kotetsu Kiyone, so you better remember it and never doubt it ever again," she instructed.

Kiyone sat still, anxious for what was to come.

"Never forget this: I had forgiven you before you ever drew your sword."

Rukia allowed that to sink in for a minute before continuing, waiting until she could see her suboridnate's eyes tremble with tears. "From now on, fight by my side; as my comrade and my friend. I seek nothing else - and I will demand nothing more, and expect nothing less."

...

Nanao sighed. "The Captain-Commander asked for them to be temporarily relocated somewhere far away, and when given a list of options, Kurotsuchi Taicho decided to relocate to the underground mines in Kobayashi, where their experiments wouldn't put the entire Sereitei and Rukongai at risk."

"I bet Kurotsuchi Taicho was probably annoyed at having to move all of his equipment," Rukia laughed.

"Oh, he was pissed. He had to file a convict pardon form to get Urahara-san to come help move some of the stuff; apparently it had been set up by the old eccentric goof ages ago and he was the only one who knew how to move it. You know how much Kurotsuchi Taicho hates him."

Rukia blinked. "Actually, that's why I'm here; Yoruichi-san sent me to go find Urahara-san."

...

Rukia grabbed her by the collar, shaking her. "What the hell do you mean? Tell me before you make me kill you!"

There was no defiance in Nemu's eyes - just a deep, dark sadness; a suffering that seemed inhuman. "No, Rukia-sama. You don't understand. I can't tell you."

"What, you don't know where he is? You have to know!"

"Of course I know where Urahara-dono is, Rukia-sama. But Mayuri-sama instructed me not to tell," Nemu answered, but then her voice cracked and the tears began to stream. "...And you assume that my father created me with free will."

...

"Rukia-sama, you need to injure my brain and heart to kill me properly." Tears flowed uncharacteristically from her face. "Please, Rukia-sama."

"Nemu... I-"

"Rukia-sama, please. For my own dignity as a shinigami. Do not deny me the only dignity I have left."

...

"May you pass into the land of the living, and return to us once more," and although the rite normally ended there, Rukia concluded, "and may you finally be free."

...

Ichigo was frustrated. Urahara wasn't getting them anywhere. "What's the big deal? What's so special about soul infusion?"

Urahara's tone switched to the serious one he loved using for dramatic effect. "Simple. It's a necessary requirement for achieving zotokai."

Yoruichi, who had been sitting quietly as Urahara had been explaining, instantaneously spewed her tea all over Ichigo in complete shock. "_What? !_ Kisuke, you discovered _WHAT? !_"

...

"Kurotsuchi Mayuri," Rukia challenged, finding her voice through the pain, "I have a gift for you."

"Black Sun, White Moon, Gray Heaven, Mask and Wing -

Zotokai."

...

His own reiatsu was leaking - no, gushing - into her, and she absorbed his black-and-red energy as it swirled off into bended light. Her whole body was bursting with a bright, prismatic aura that seemed to split moonlight into rainbows. Bright beams of kaleidoscopic red, green, indigo, and every color in between were exploding in all directions; jamming his brain with a haze of every imaginable shade. A motley dance of palpable ribbons shimmered and curled off of them; threatening to blow out their retinas with a wild display of colors. Even her raven hair - her beautiful, distinct, silken black hair that Ichigo adored - was bursting with a psychedelic vibrance; its sheen a vivacious, chromatic luster.

...

The zotokai spirit turned its back to Kurostuchi and looked at the two shinigami who had summoned it, bright red eyes bearing down on them. Reaching up to its mask, the great spirit removed it.

Rukia wasn't sure if she was relieved, scared, or angered that the world had played a cruel practical joke. For although she didn't recognize the long hair, the face was undeniable.

It was the face of Shiba Kaien.

...

As though it was finally satisfied with its preparations, the spirit finally introduced itself. "I am Dikita Kuranaya. In my world I am known as Kuranaya-zoto, Guardian of Mask and Wing."

"Kuchisaki Rukigo - does this man threaten the lives, honor, dignity, and futures of others?"

Too worn to speak, they looked up at Kuranaya with solemn but determined faces. After a quick glance at each other, both Ichigo and Rukia nodded their heads.

"So be it," it said, and turned to their opponent. "Tell me your name," it said, withdrawing its swords, right hand reaching over to grab the white blade on the left, left hand reaching under to draw the black sword on the right.

Kurotsuchi drew his sword as a toothy, arrogant smile spread across his lips. "12th Division Captain, Kurotsuchi Mayuri, Head of the Technological Bureau of Research. You've come just in time to participate in my experiments."

Kuranaya showed no reaction, but instead answered in a lilting cadence, as though it was channeling an otherworldly force. "Your fate, and your name, will now descend into the maelstrom."

...

"Goodbye, Nametaken One." With that parting statement, Kuranaya thrust his swords through the seeing eyes of his target's head, bursting it into nothing more than a cloud of ionic dust.

...

Uncapping it, Rukia turned the badge over and carefully wrote on the back:

"May you finally be free"

Looking up at Ichigo for approval - he nodded with a gentle smile - she capped the marker and returned it to her pocket. Reverently, she placed the badge in the makeshift grave. Ichigo knelt down, and together, they buried Lieutenant Nemu's vice captain badge.

-:-

_Recap: Saved For You, Kuchiki - Act I_

"What are you doing here? It's pretty unusual for a captain of your stature to get sent out here," Ichigo snarked, knowing it would cost him.

The regal Kuchiki Byakuya looked at him with a grim expression. "I am here to rid myself of Kurosaki Ichigo."

...

"Must you always be so brash, Kurosaki?" he sighed, his tone clearly more condescending than usual. "I didn't say I was here to kill you."

...

Byakuya bristled at the idea that he would joke about anything this serious. "Rukia stays in your home during her assignments to the real world. If anyone from the Four Houses investigates any further than they already have, I will have a much bigger scandal to deal with. I will settle for this problem in its place."

...

"The easiest way to prevent the disgrace of my clan is if you and Rukia never see each other again."

_"WHAT? !"_

"The solution is the only one I have: you will never step foot in the Sereitei again, and Rukia will never come into the living world."

...

"That's right, 'Kurosaki' was your mother's last name. She always joked that she must have been the feminist ideal or something; getting the man to take the woman's last name."

Ichigo's mouth was hanging open. He couldn't believe this. Everything he thought he knew just flew out the window - like his whole life had been somebody else's play, and he had just been an actor. "Dad, this is crazy!"

"Eh, it was convenient. Besides, 'Kurosaki Isshin' is so much easier on the tongue than my old name."

"What... what was your family name, Dad?"

"Before I got married, my full name was Shiba Isshashine."

...

Rukia put her cup down. "What were the terms?"

"If Byakuya-sama could guarantee that this 'zotokai' will remain within the Four Houses, then the Banzo family will not raise their accusations at the next Session for Aristocracy."

Tori offered her a handkerchief to wipe her eyes. "Byakuya-sama told me that he felt terrible about this. He knows how much you love each other. When Byakuya-sama spoke with Kurosaki-dono, Byakuya-sama discovered that Kurosaki-dono was willing to marry you, just to make this all go away."

Rukia's mouth hung open. "Wuh-what?"

...

"My, my, Kurosaki-san. There's no need to do anything illegal. I'll just send you over to Jidanbo to say hi."

Byakuya's words flashed back in Ichigo's mind. _"The solution is the only one I have: you will never step foot in the Sereitei again, and Rukia will never come into the living world."_

Ichigo started laughing - a deep, hearty laugh that brought joy to his bones. _The Rukongai!_ Byakuya didn't say he couldn't go into the Rukongai!

...

Byakuya passed her a handkerchief to wipe her tears, and an idea came to him. A rotten one. One so perfectly rotten that he could think of no better way than to stick it to his old man. "Although I know how you can repay me."

"Anything, your Grace."

"See, my grandfather wants me to accept an arranged marriage. I have no desire to marry any of his proposed brides, and want nothing more than for him to get off my back."

Hisana was scared. "...And?"

"It's quite simple. I marry you instead, and then I don't have to bother."

...

"What are your ends, Banzo Ichihime? Did you think I would lay down and die while you trample on my soul?" Kuchiki Rukia said to her amidst the clash of weapons, her voice low but ominous.

...

Nanao's brain nearly shut down at that point as she struggled to comprehend what she was witnessing. Achieving zotokai meant that Kuchiki Rukia's power was nearly a thousand times greater than the average shinigami.

...

Ichihime struggled to get to her feet, straining her voice against the crippling effects of Kuchiki's power. _"I'll earn my honor!"_

Lieutenant Shorty had totally lost her cool, calm demeanor and was screaming at her. _"What do you know about earning anything? !"_

Ichihime was enraged. _"As if you think your name is worth more than your badge!"_

...

"My brother... he's still alive," Kuukaku whispered, beginning to contain herself.

...

"5th Seat Banzo, I'm afraid that you owe Rukia-sama an apology," Kyoraku spoke lightheartedly. "Please forgive her, Rukia-sama. Banzo-dono is likely not aware that you came from Inazuri."

"In-In-Inazuri! You mean the 78th district, where I was patrolling this week?"

...

Ichihime bowed to Rukia to get her attention. "Excuse me, Kuchiki Fukutaicho? I... I don't know what my father's doing, but I didn't come here to instigate some kind of feud between the two houses. I may be a princess, but I would honestly much rather be a lieutenant."

...

_"Class G/Q Alert: Urgent security meeting in the Squad 1 Assembly Hall. All captains, vice captains, and acting lieutenants must report immediately to Squad One Assembly Hall."_

_..._

Opening her hand, she noticed it was... "A ring?"

"Yes," Sasakibe answered on behalf of his captain. "This was saved for you, Kuchiki Rukia."

"I don't understand," she said, confounded.

"Well, for god's sake, Midget, put it on! Guys don't propose to you every day, you know."

...

Fresh tears of joy streamed down her face. "You're a member of the Four Houses," she sniffled.

Gasps echoed throughout the room. Yoruichi and Kuukaku, however, shared the same cocky smile that Ichigo had.

"I stabbed you through the heart," she announced proudly, recalling that fateful day.

The captains and vice captains all looked a bit nervous, but Ichigo's smile didn't falter. In fact, it beamed brighter. He continued to hold her hand, twisting the ring around her finger. It fit perfectly. She fit him perfectly. Fate fit them perfectly.

Rukia's voice fell soft. "Then- _then I found you fifteen years later in the world of the living and did it again._ Ichigo- you- _you were Shiba Kaien._"

-:-

_Recap: Saved For You, Kuchiki - Act II_

"Whoa, Nanao-chan. Don't get so mad at me - I'm serious. You've been underchallenged for a while. Planning a wedding would be a good outlet for you. It might even help."

"Kyoraku Taicho," she asked, her voice uncharacteristically vulnerable as she choked on her words, "is... is this how it feels when you want to celebrate with family?"

...

"So then it's simple. I finally figured out how to beat you."

_Really, Sister? What makes you so sure?_

"You're just like me. You want to end the fight before it even begins - so you stack the rules against me, make it impossible, up the ante, never give a hint. All of it to despair me into thinking that I could never win," Nanao smiled, fingering the pages in the musty old tome. She had the urge to start singing her favorite aria, something Nanao tended to do when she was feeling particularly confident.

"The answer is simple, really. You never wanted me to play fair in the first place. So I'll just cheat."

...

Yamamoto ignored the outright personal investment he had in his subordinate officer for the moment. "You realize that we have no idea how dangerous she is? If her zanpakutou goes to her head, the things she might do to her fellow shinigami?"

Kyoraku took the opening. "Perfect, so then you'll agree to my proposal."

Yamamoto didn't like the sound of that. "And just what is this 'proposal' of yours?"

"Let me promote her to vice captain. Onabara-san has been asking me to retire for a while now. All he wants is to teach in Shinou Academy full-time, something you know would be a wonderful benefit to prospective students. Nanao-chan will be pulled into a desk job where she's working forms all day long, and I can keep an eye on her. It's not like she hasn't been on the short list for a while already."

The Captain-Commander was not thrilled with this idea. "Clipping the wings of a dragon is a surefire way to make sure it eats you before anyone else."

...

"Good night, Nii-sama, Kuukaku-dono." Rukia turned and headed back towards her room. If she had been telepathic, she was sure she could hear her brother screaming 'how dare you leave me with her', but she didn't care.

...

"And that's how I lost my arm. Banzo Tanabi demanded it as retribution."

Byakuya's eyes split open in shock. "...What?"

"Banzo Tanabi cut off my arm with his own zanpakutou, and then incinerated it with kido right in front of my eyes. I still remember his words: 'A princess for a princess.' In his eyes, if the only daughter of the Banzo House was going to be damaged goods, he wanted the same punishment for the House of Shiba."

...

"Speaking of Rukia-chan, do you think it would kill you to call her 'Imoto' once in a while? If those Kurosaki girls call her 'sister', you can too."

Byakuya was not pleased with the redirection in conversation. As much as he had been genuinely upset about Kuukaku's revelation, he was not about to let her misinterpret it as permission to comment on his personal affairs. "What right do you have to speak on the subject?"

"I have every right in the world. That girl is marrying my nephew- brother? - whatever the hell he is, and she's going to be my family. Are you going to be the only one who doesn't treat her that way?"

That was the last straw. She had jabbed at him one too many times today, and now he was livid. It was one thing for her to try and undermine his dignity, but this encroachment was unforgivable. Byakuya drew his blade, his temper getting the best of him. "You challenge my pride."

"_Unbelievable_," Kuukaku muttered. "Are you _kidding_ me?"

...

"What is it now, Byakuya-san? _'How dare I speak to you like this?'_ Damn straight. It's about time. If no other Head of House can rebuke you, then who will - _God himself?_"

Byakuya held up his hand, gesturing her to stop. The expression on her face was explosively angry, but Kuukaku was holding her tongue to give him an opportunity to respond. The fire in her eyes was familiar - it was as if Kurosaki Karin was challenging him all over again.

The Great Prince of the Four Houses, 6th Division Captain Kuchiki Byakuya, withdrew his sword - and dropped it on the ground.

...

Kuukaku's anger melted into soul-shattering astonishment, and her stance softened, arm hanging loose and completely incapable of believing what she had just seen.

To drop his sword? It was unfathomable. For Byakuya to forsake himself? That was unimaginable.

...

Kuukaku carefully stepped towards him. Slowly and cautiously, she reverently picked up his katana; and with grace and elegance not typically associated with the Head of the Shiba House, Kuukaku carefully handed it back to him. "Like I said before," she said gently, "I'll forgive you, but only if you smile."

Like before, he didn't smile, but he didn't grimace either. He hesitated; and with eyes closed, Byakuya took the blade back from her respectfully and gently resheathed it.

"Byakuya-san, talk to her. It may be different, but Rukia-chan loves you just as much as Hisana-dono did. You owe it to her."

He sighed, too emotional to speak. Fortunately for him, it came out the same way all of his other sighs of exasperation did.

Kuukaku dared to wipe the tears off his cheek. He didn't stop her. "Promise me, Byakuya-san."

"I... I promise."

...

His voice was solemn but genuine. "Hisana did not know Kuchiki-sama," he said, the honorific laced with nonchalant contempt. "She knew Byakuya."

Kuukaku had never heard him ever refer to his own honor with disgust. It was eye-opening. "I know both men," she replied softly, "although I prefer the latter one." Kuukaku took his hand and pulled him forward. "C'mon, it's late. Take me home."

...

He shut the door to the room, lit the incense that the servants had set up for him, and opened the screens to see Hisana's picture - but a note fell out.

Lifting it off the floor, he recognized it as Rukia's distinct handwriting:

_Hisana will never forgive you if you die alone._

-:-

_Recap: Saved For You, Kuchiki - Act III_

Nanao stood her ground as Banzo Tanabi then crushed the centimeter-thick spectacles with his bare hands, pulverizing the shards of glass like they were no sharper than clumped sugar.

"_Oops,_" he said, letting the twisted frames fall to the ground, and then grinding them into the floor with his foot.

"_I have come for the right to bequeath the Four Posts,_" she repeated, indicating that even if it took all day, she was going to get her way.

Tanabi sneered at her, but didn't say anything to accompany the gesture. Nanao's iron resolve didn't fail her, and she continued to give the man a stare that said go ahead and try, but I won't give up.

"Mikoro," Tanabi finally said, "this orphan is not worth any more of my breath. Tell the other Houses that she can bequeath toothpicks for all I care, the matter is of no concern to me."

...

Nanao sighed. "I'm not much of a vice captain," she explained. "And I'm sure you would prefer that I felt differently about your advances."

If there were any two topics Kyoraku tried to avoid at all costs, it was these. Either of these topics were explosively dangerous conversations with Nanao, even more than her zanpakutou. Especially the latter one.

Shunsui had always anticipated that bedding Nanao would have been fun - but it had been anything but: once things got past the point of no return, she started crying - and she didn't stop for three whole days.

...

"I always see Hisana in your face. I sealed away my grief, and I feared that your presence would tear it open again. I closed my soul, and you have suffered. Hisana would never forgive me for what I have done to you. I have failed in my responsibilities and my duties, and I have utterly failed to fulfill my promise to her. I have not been the brother you needed me to be."

Rukia sat down next to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. So many things began to make sense now. The words flowed from her mouth naturally and instinctively, and she was pleased with how they came forth with genuine care and devotion. "But Hisana-neesama would remind you that you are still my brother, Nii-sama - and that I will always love you, no matter how many missteps you make."

...

Rukia unwrapped a small bundle to reveal four beautiful plum-wood chopsticks. The wide ends were all coated in gold, and each was etched with her name.

She dived into Nanao's shoulder, startling her friend with a fierce hug. "Nanao-san, I am sooooo honored. It means so much to me that I got these from you. Becoming a lieutenant, the wedding plans, finding the right books, all of the advice - I don't know how I would have been able to do all of this myself. You've been like a big sister I never had."

...

He didn't know why, but at that moment, he would have given anything to be able to see her face. "Yes, Kuukaku-san?"

Her voice was proud - but also pained and filled with sadness when she provided her departing words. "Will there ever be another woman who will come searching for you like I have?"

Byakuya sat in silence at his desk, lonely after she disappeared from his vision. The pain in his chest was too much to bear, even for him.

...

Miyako was no stranger to sad situations like this one. She had performed konso on several children throughout the course of her career, but this soul was different. First, unlike all of the other children she had encountered, this one wasn't crying. Second, she didn't have a chain of fate, which was no less disturbing. Miyako did a quick check of the girl's spirit ribbon. The only possible explanation was that somehow, this soul had died as a shinigami; but Miyako didn't find a red ribbon - nor did she find a white one, either.

This girl's spirit ribbon was black.

...

"Juu," Shunsui pressed him.

"I told Unohana-san 'no' because I can't do it, Shunsui. I just can't see myself pushing Kiyone-chan aside like that. She's been with me through good and bad since the end of the Winter War. No matter how confused I am, I know that I owe it to her to sort it out."

"But you can't leave the poor girl dangling."

Ukitake sighed. It was times like this that he wished he still coughed enough that people left him alone. "I know. I'll figure it out."

...

His mind threw a bunch more words at him. Ones like 'hot', 'sexy', 'steamy', 'enticing', and 'voluptuous' had the right connotation, but they didn't really feel like the ones he was looking for either. After all, they were going to a wedding. Such thoughts were not appropriate for someone in formal wear. On the other hand, he had to admit it - if Kiyone was going for the blond bombshell look, she hit it out of the ballpark. Hell, she hit it into the freakin' stratosphere.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Jushiro-san." The words were innocent, but the tone was anything but.

...

Ichigo recited his vows first, reciting the four-by-four in solemn poetic cadence. "I'll always protect you. I cherish your soul. You are my everything. Love me forever more."

"Your heart transcends time. Your soul envelops me. You bring me comfort. Become my eternal companion," she answered.

Byakuya, as the bride's Head of House, continued authoratatively. "Hereby it be known-"

"-the chamber is ready-" Kuukaku followed loudly,

then Yoruichi, proudly: "and they will be-"

"forever husband and wife," Tanabi concluded with disinterest.

With that cue from the four Heads of House, all of the guests in the hall clapped four times in acknowledgement. The marriage had been witnessed.

...

Isane's worrying was interrupted by a small squeaky voice somewhere near her waist. She looked down to see the 4th division 6th seat, Yamada Hanataro. "Yes?"

Hanataro stiffened as tall as he could and put on the bravest face he could muster. I can do this, he thought. "Will you dance with me?"

"M-m-me?" Isane blushed.

"Y-y-yes." Oh god, she is so beautiful. And tall. She's never gonna say yes.

"S-s-sure," she answered, astonished that anyone had asked her at all.

...

"Oh, give it a rest," Renji answered. "You're too pretty to get sloshed."

Ichihime gave him a startled look. Did he just say 'pretty'? Am I hallucinating? Let me check: "Um, hey - uh, maybe you wanna dance or something?"

"Sure," he said, pushing the barstool in behind him. "A stray dog could do much worse than a princess."

"A princess could do much worse than a stray dog," she replied, mockingly patting his head.

...

"I can't believe you don't recognize me without my glasses," she remarked, disbelief evident.

_Are you freakin' kidding me?_ Hisagi thought. Who the hell recognizes you _without _them! ? _I_ certainly don't. Hell, I _like_ the glasses. "Well, you look absolutely fantastic, but I guess I always dream about you with them on."

She eyed him, not sure of how she should take that comment, but decided to let it slide. "I'll remember that," she answered innocently. When Nanao saw the gleam in his smile, she winked at him.

...

Suddenly, Soifon grabbed Kotsubaki by his shirt and started barking in his face. "What, you don't want to ask me to dance! ? Am I ugly or something! ?"

"N-n-no! I j-j-just thought you w-w-would have preferred some time to yourse-"

_"Shut up and ask me to dance!"_

"O-o-kay! Um, l-l-let's dance, then!"

...

There were nine more minutes until the first dance set was over, when he and Karin had to be there to see Kuchiki and Kurosaki came out of the matrimony chamber. That gave Hitsugaya Toshiro seven more minutes of kissing before he had to go back to being an adult.

...

Kuukaku slowly regained control over her overflowing laughter and took a cup of tea from a passing waiter. She took a sip to calm her giggles before addressing him again. "Byakuya-san, let's get married."

If he was a lesser man, he would have spewed his tea right then and there. "Excuse me? I beg your pardon?"

She turned serious. "I will never take Hisana-dono's place, nor do I want to. She was a special woman who is deserving of every praise and honor you have ever given her, and then some. By your own admission, the five years you were married were the happiest days of your life. And you're afraid. Afraid that I'll make you happy, and that you'll forget about how much she meant to you."

His entire body was frozen, unflinching; save for a single tear that began to form in Byakuya's eye - but even that ultimately refused to move.

Kuukaku persisted. "There's room in that heart of yours for me to stand in her shadow. I will never let you forget the happiness she brought you. I love the man - the man, not the prince - who is shaped by those memories, and so help me, I'll kill you myself if you ever forget her. All I want to do is add to that happiness; give you more of it. Even if I only make you half as happy as she did, for even only one day, I would die a fulfilled woman. Please, Byakuya-san - let me stand in Hisana's shadow. Let me love you, too."

He squirmed uncomfortably. His voice cracked, and when he whispered "But I don't love you," it came out with no conviction whatsoever.

She humored his pitiful lie. "But I know you will," she whispered reassuringly.

Byakuya was quiet. Kuukaku took the cup of tea from his free hand, and poured her own tea into it. She then poured half of the mixed tea back into her cup and drank it, giving him the other mixture.

He gave her a puzzled look, so Kuukaku explained. "Lives are like tea, Byakuya-san. Sometimes, they taste better when they are filled with the flavors of another."

Hesitatingly, with the single frozen tear finally cascading down his face, he lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip. To his soul-shocking surprise, it instantly reminded him of the incredible tastes of Kurosaki Yuzu's amazingly flavorful concoctions. He even allowed himself to appear childish for a moment, since he could not help but finish the cup without stopping to pause. Resting the cup on the table, he stared into the eyes of the Shiba Head of House.

Kuukaku leaned over and kissed him. This time, though, he kissed back.

...

With that, the major general of the Kido Corps invoked the dark arts of forbidden kido, stopping time.

...

Tanabi would have his revenge on all of them. The Kuchiki girl who refused to marry him, her miscreant husband for meddling in the affairs of nobility, and the entire house of Shiba for their failure to fulfill their promise to his daughter. If Banzo Tanabi's pure geneology was going to end with Ichihime, well then he was certain the Houses of Shiba and Kuchiki were not going to continue, either. When that chamber opens to the rest of them, that insufferable Kuchiki Byakuya and the witch Shiba Kuukaku will find the bride and groom lying in a pool of piss and blood.

...

Turning around, he saw the purple-scarfed Orphan Bridesmaid pulling away from him; golden dagger in hand. His blood was on it, but it began to seep into the blade; slowly disappearing until the golden edge brightly reflected the midday sun.

Tanabi looked at Ise Nanao with disdain, clutching his side and trying to apply medical kido to seal the wound. "How come you're not stuck in the timestop?" he winced, his side oozing.

"Do you think no one ever tried to kill a bride before?" Nanao scowled back. "You're an idiot, Banzo Tanabi. Did you think the First Queen, Zohoin Toba, made this scarf because she needed something to match her purple hair?"

...

_MOOOOOOOOOOORRRREE! HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNGGRRRYYY! FFEEEDD MEEE!_ her zanpakutou was screaming, whipped up into a frenzy. The bloodlust was singing in Nanao's head; the sweet, ferrous crimson tang floating in the air as Tanabi's wound dripped on the floor. Nanao's strength was building, and her blade was tingling, glowing, chanting its name to be called out. Nanao and her Sister wanted blood, and they both knew they were going to get it.

_"Saya,"_ Nanao commanded, _"Fight!"_ Her golden knife unfurled into the pink fan that she always carried around, although this time, swirls and eddies of blood-red currents flowed through the fabric. It was only half saturated; but normally it got nothing at all and sat around practically useless, save for whacking Kyoraku Taicho when he annoyed her. Nanao had never given it this much blood before. Notably, she never had a reason to stab a person until now - only hollows.

Nanao could feel Saya's red eyes burning with a desire to suck this man dry. The dark-haired teenage girl inside her fan was impatient with temptation. Nanao's own eyes, hidden only behind contacts instead of her usual glasses, burned just as bright. She was absorbed in the moment, humming the opera that was blazing in her head. Nanao was in her element. The heady iron smell of blood, the euphoric rush of battle, the adrenaline that came with being a shinigami; a psychopomp, a god of the dead, a harbinger of death, a messenger of the grave.

...

"You think you're so important, Orphan? _I'm going to crush your head like a tomato_!"

" 'Orphan', huh?" Nanao smirked. "Banzo Tanabi, surely you know the Origin of the Four Houses."

Tanabi paused to catch his breath, glancing at her warily. Even Ise Nanao didn't spout such random gibberish.

Nanao recited an abbreviated version of the passage, fully aware that as a Head of House, Tanabi had memorized the entire thing: _"Shiku lost his family to the monsters of the night; and in his suffering agony, was forced to bury his wife and thirteen children. Their lifeblood seeped into his skin and merged with his core. So the white ribbon of this soul, faced with the blood of his most cherished, chose to dye itself a crimson red."_

"Who do you think you are, Orphan, that you can recite my origins to _me! ?_" he yelled, his voice fuming.

"8th Division Vice Captain, Ise Nanao," she stated proudly, "and the reincarnated 8th child of First King Chibaniki Shiku." She leveled her gaze at him as her reiatsu haze began to flare in her eyes. "It is my blood that gave birth to all shinigami - the same blood that runs in your veins; _you fat, pompous pile of rat feces._"

...

Tanabi pointed at her and laughed. "HAH HAH! FOOL! You never realized? You never knew that old Shunsui promoted you into a desk job so that you would never see combat again? That in truth, he didn't have the heart to tell his darling little Nanao-chan that you're nothing but a complete failure? A waste of shinigami spirit particles? That you can't protect yourself with that useless zanpakutou of yours, much less your comrades? And you think I'm a disgrace? You stupid orphan, have you no common sense? I thought they said you were the smart one!"

Intense, smoldering indignation permeated through every fiber in her being as Nanao ground her teeth in repressed outrage. Nanao knew she should never believe a word Tanabi said, but it jived with her long-held suspicions; and hearing it from him of all people made her blood boil.

Tanabi was enjoying how much he was twisting the knife in her side. "And of all things, you proved your own incestuous disgrace, didn't you? Sleeping with the man you call your father? You can criticize me all you want, Orphan, but I command more dignity while shitting on the pot than you will ever have in your entire lifetime! Dignity? HAH! What in the world could you possible say to _me! ?_"

_Blade, Badge, Bed._

Nanao had no idea how he knew all of this, but it didn't matter: three strikes, you're out.

"I've got something to say to you, alright," she seethed. "_**Sing, Saya: Convocare il nono cerchio dell'inferno - Bankai,**_ _you motherfucking son of a bitch._"

...

Gusts of wind forced their way through the hall as the earth and sky began to tremble in anticipation. The blast of reiatsu quaked the frozen inhabitants as the grand visage of the Gates of Hell instantly materialized behind the 8th division vice captain. Their size filled every last open inch of space in the center of Kodachi Hall, and would have terrified the throng of guests if they had any idea what was happening. When the musty, ominous iron doors opened wide, they revealed a spectacle that had rarely been witnessed in thousands of years.

An entire legion of nine hundred Handoshi elite, white hair and orange eyes gleaming against their ragged grey cloaks, stood behind the threshhold.

The man completely ignored Tanabi and spoke directly to the Orphan Lieutenant. "Brigadier General of the 8th Handoshi Legion, Chibaniki Saya-dono, so good to see you again."

...

Banzo Tanabi interrupted this seemingly pleasant exchange. "Who the flying fuck are you, Pussyface?"

The man pierced him with an iron gaze, and Tanabi's further protestations died in his throat as though it had taken him by a vise. "Colonel of the 8th Legion, Hajimata Percival; knight-in-arms to the Brigadier General," he answered, gesturing to Nanao as though it was obvious to the universe who he was talking about.

The woman introduced herself as well, although she had an amused grin on her face. "Chief Sergeant of the 8th Handoshi Legion, Hikifune Miyako; Official Doomsayer over Aizen's Espada."

...

She laughed - a dark, threatening, ominous laugh that did not forebode well for him. "Let me explain something to you, you sorry disgrace for a Four Houses prince. You may have that wealth of reiatsu from your pure blood, Banzo Tanabi- but no matter how powerful you are, _you're still ten thousand years removed from the source_."

Tanabi's bones shook as her entire body lit up in a freakish, diabolical blast of orange reiatsu. The flare was so fierce that it extended in a sphere of thirty feet in all directions, the haze nearly exploding the roof off of Kodachi Hall. Tanabi's lungs felt like they were instantly flattened, and his brain nearly shut down at the awesome, mighty, unimaginable display of force. It was thousands and thousands of times more powerful than anything he had ever even heard of. The spiritual pressure was _staggering_ - inconceivable; mind-bending; beyond the facilities of mortal comprehension.

It was for only but a second, but it was enough. For the first time that evening, Banzo Tanabi felt fear - true, raw, real, bone-chilling, teeth-grinding, gut-crawling, spine-quivering _fear_.

...

Miyako, however, stayed behind. "Ise Fukutaicho," she interrupted Nanao, who was overseeing a large Handoshi cleanup crew.

"Yes, Miyako-dono?"

"If I'm not mistaken, this looks like a wedding amongst the Four Houses."

"Yes! Isn't it exciting?"

"Absolutely!" Miyako beamed. "Just curious - who's getting married?"

Nanao stopped short, breath trapped in her lungs. Oh _shit_. This could end very, very badly.

...

"You know where Kaien is, don't you?" she asked softly. "You're trying to hide it from me." Miyako's tone was completely devoid of threat, but the words themselves still inspired dread.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Stall, goddamnit! Stall! Think! Think!_ The last thing I want to have to do is restrain her, escalation is not the right move. I have to avoid conflict at all cost or Rukia-san is going to find out and then her wedding is going to devolve into madness. Fuck, fuck, fuck - I can't lie, she's too smart. She'll know. Think, goddamnit, _think!_

"Miyako-dono," Nanao feigned complete bewilderment, "why would you think that?" _Stall for time. Stall for time. Stall for time._

A smile spread across Miyako's face, and she closed her eyes. Nanao began to panic as Miyako withdrew her katana. _"Perceive, Clara."_

...

Rukia's confusion choked in her throat as Miyako charged, blade aimed at her head in a wide slash. Rukia blocked it, but the ambidextrous Miyako tossed the sword mid-strike into the other hand, changing direction and going into an upwards vertical strike. Rukia leaped to the side as the blade swished past her nose.

"Miyako-dono, how- what are you doing? !"

_"No time to explain!"_ she shouted mid-slash, and Rukia went on the defensive.

...

Rukia whispered in Miyako's ear: "Kaien-dono loved you a thousand times more deeply than any infatuation I ever could have had for him. He was not, is not, and never will be, mine - and _my_ heart, Miyako-dono, lies with someone else."

Miyako exploded into hysterical tears, crying and sobbing and thrashing in Rukia's arms. Rukia cooed gentle hushes in her ear, and although it was completely unlike Rukia to cry over anything, tears welled in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Kuchiki-san."

And then, taking advantage of her opponent's mercy, Miyako surreptitiously stabbed Rukia through the back of the head.

...

Kuchiki Rukia's body, frozen in the timestop, awoke. It was wrapped around the body of Kurosaki Ichigo, which remained unseeing and unaware.

"I'm sorry, Kuchiki-san," the bride's body whispered. "But there's something I have to do."

...

"Goodbye, Kaien."

And with that, Miyako wiped the bride's tears away, and after touching her late husband's unknowing face one last time, she withdrew back to her inner world; leaving Rukia's body and returning it to suspended animation.

...

Miyako opened her eyes with a shrewd grin as she sheathed her katana. "Well, I agree that it would be best not to ruin Kuchiki-san's big day, but hopefully I'll get to say hello some other time. I would really love to catch up with her and find out how she's doing; I'm sure if I did I would be very proud of who she's become," Miyako replied, rainbows and cupcakes overtly baked into her confident voice. "As for Kaien," she paused to take a breath, "wherever he could be, Ise Fukutaicho, I hope that he found someone who makes him happy," she said oh-so-innocently. "I know that's the way I would want it."

...

"I'm sure he would want the same for you," Nanao answered, her tone clearly indicating she knew Miyako had combed her mind but that she, too, would pretend like it never happened.

Miyako rolled her eyes, happy that she could relax. "Are you kidding me? The only good man in all of Hell is your cavaliere; and Percival's holding out until he can find you when he comes out in a few centuries." She laughed, and then casually added: "I have no idea how I'm going to go ten thousand years without sex."

Nanao erupted into hysterical laughter, collapsing into Miyako's shoulder in spurts and spasms from the completely unexpected quip. Miyako couldn't help herself, and burst out into equally boisterous giggles. It didn't take long until the laughter evolved into something warm and meaningful, and the two women shared a unique moment; slapping each other on the back and completely understanding each other deeper than most people ever could.

-:-

_Recap: Saved For You, Kuchiki - Act IV_

Isane slowly changed into pajamas, feeling warm and giddy all over. She had never believed she was going to have so much fun today. Usually, large social events overwhelmed her, but today she had a nice companion who was only interested in her. It didn't matter that Hanataro was a bit of a klutz, and a goof, and was ridiculously short - he had a good heart. More than anything, she felt so comfortable around him. It was nice.

For the first time in eighty years, Kotetsu Isane slept a whole night without a single nightmare. Her sleep was unbroken, black, unconscious rest. It was pure bliss.

...

He brought her into a large but very austere room, and after a few moments, spoke tentatively. "...I hope that you will not be offended, Kuukaku-san, but I would like to know if you will sit with me here, if even for only a moment." Slowly, Byakuya opened up a set of shouji screens to reveal a series of portraits of former members of the Kuchiki family. The most prominent one, in the center, was a picture of Byakuya's late wife.

Tears came to Kuukaku's eyes, and she squeezed his hand with a reassuring grip. "Byakuya-san, I have never been so honored in my entire life," she cried, unable to restrain her happiness.

...

His zanpakutou, the terribly-unexcitingly-named Claymore, was a huge, wide, heavy, four-foot-long, two-handed monstrosity that could easily cleave a horse in half. Ichihime was loathe to touch it - Claymore was a ruthlessly evil blade that had willingly served its owner to perform only-god-knows-how-many cruel, despicable acts - but she needed to check.

Nodding thanks to the crew who had hauled in the heavy sword, she gestured for them to depart while Mikoro should remain. Tentatively, Ichihime grabbed the hilt.

It was completely devoid of spirit. Not one speck of reishi was left in the blade. It was confirmed: her father was dead.

...

"Tch," she snorted. "Bullshit. My father didn't know shit about love."

In yet another moment of stupendously mind-muddling stupidity in his sorry and pathetic life, Mikoro unwittingly decided he had a death wish when he opened up his big fat mouth. "If I may be honest with you, Ichihime-sama: neither do you."

...

The suggestive tug on his arm was indeed an invitation. Saijin did not know that he was ready for this, but he unexpectedly felt it was not in his best interests to decline. "If it is not too much of a trouble, a cup of tea would be most enjoyable."

Retsu beamed at him. "Wonderful," she exclaimed, and led him inside to the small apartment where she had lived for centuries.

It was a modest but homey residence, with a distinctly pink flavor. Saijin noticed that there were only two small pictures on the mantle of her fireplace. One was a practically ancient picture of a woman he did not immediately recognize, but vaguely resembled his hostess. The other picture, however, was of General Yamamoto; although it also appeared to be quite old. He would have pondered it a bit more, but a sound distracted him after Unohana shut the door to her apartment.

Komamura Saijin's sensitive ears would never have missed the sound of a clicking lock behind him.

...

"I'm tired, Jushiro-san." Her voice cracked as she continued. "I've made enough of a fool of myself. I just can't do this anymore," she croaked out, her voice layered with distress and self-loathing. Kiyone could only eek out a barely audible whisper. "If you all you can do is love me like a daughter, than do what all fathers do - let me go."

Ukitake visibly winced; her remarks literally crushed him. What a terrible job I'm doing trying to explain myself.

Seeing no other options, Ukitake Jushiro took Kotetsu Kiyone's face in his hands and kissed her right on the mouth.

...

Ichihime frowned. Thank you, Oh Great Sage of the Era, Professor Shiji the Wise, for your fortune cookie sentiments. Remind me to leave you home next time.

_Hey, I mean it. Yesterday, you were looking at the bride and crying inside, feeling unloved and unwanted. Do you want to feel that way your entire life? Let go, already. Love doesn't have to be rational. You don't have to justify it. You don't have to prove to yourself that it's okay to love your father. You can love him simply because he was your father, and that's enough. You don't have to feel guilty about it, or hate yourself for it. Just let go._

Ichihime looked at Claymore, the only remnant she had of the man everyone else knew as Banzo Tanabi. Taking a deep breath, she knew she had to, but she felt like he didn't deserve it.

Shiji interrupted her brooding. _Hime-sama, love your father for at least this: he taught you an invaluable lesson. No one else could have taught you that anger and bitterness will become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Love him because he paid the price so that you wouldn't have to._

Ichihime nodded. However unintended it was, that was indeed her father's sacrifice - and she could love him for that. "Goodbye, Chichi-ue. I will redeem the family name - for Haha-ue's sake. I know you would have wanted that."

...

Eventually, she found the courage to speak. "Papa," she said quietly.

"Uh, Nanao-cha-"

"I forgive you," she interrupted again.

Shunsui paused for a moment, a bit surprised that she would acquiesce so easily, and then let out a sigh of relief. He then hesitated for moment. "You've, uh, never called me that before."

Nanao gave him a fake sneer with a touch of affectionate sarcasm. "Get used to it, Papa."

...

Nel ended up being taken back to 12th division lockup, where she readily submitted. Rukia went to visit every now and then, since Nel would always ask about how "Itsygo" was doing and remark about how living with shinigami "was the good life". Rukia always got a good laugh out of it. She had no idea what the Gotei 13 were going to do to Nel for the long term - after all, she was still a hollow - but for right now, she seemed to be happy.

...

It was Nanao's first combat mission in over fifty years, and she had a ton of fun kicking ass - and boy, did she kick a lot of it. The things Nanao could do with kido were insane - Rukia had never seen anything like it before. Nanao could chain _Hado #92: Death Cannon_ like a machine gun - and Nanao could make mask them with a fused _Bakudo #26: Bending Light_, too! How the hell can someone do that!

It was truly an amazing thing to witness. Rukia wondered why Nanao had been held out of combat for so long; she was an absolute monster on the battlefield. At some point, arrancar began running away from her, preferring to take their chances with Zaraki rather than tango with the self-nicknamed "Shinigami from Hell." Rukia didn't get why Nanao employed such an unusual title, but she didn't ask. She just assumed Nanao liked it because it made her seem fearsome.

Nanao came back so revved up from the trip to El Salvador that she accepted the Kido Corps position on condition that she would get to go on more missions from now on. The Soutaicho heartily endorsed Nanao's condition, and in appreciation, Nanao promised to coordinate the Kido Corps with the Gotei 13 more closely than they had before. Central 46 even seemed to be pleased, which everyone agreed was a first. Central 46 was never pleased about anything. Since then, Rukia had loads of fun teasing Nanao about how she had shot past her dream to become a captain, calling her 'Shosho-neechan' whenever she could. Nanao loved it.

...

Former captain Shiba Kuukaku, who would be marrying Nii-sama in a month, was the person who ended up ascending to the 5th division captain's seat. Rukia couldn't believe it, but she actually saw Nii-sama smile when he was with her. Rukia had always thought Byakuya needed some companionship, but she didn't expect it to go anywhere serious when she set him up on a blind date with Shiba Kuukaku. And for them to get married? Rukia could barely believe it. Somehow, though, Kuukaku had cracked him open and gotten inside that hard shell of his.

Byakuya talked to Rukia a lot more now. A lot more - he had really opened up a lot now that he was so much happier. He spent time with her, reviewing the Kuchiki family heritage and sharing many of the House secrets with her. Rukia had previously learnt much about the family heritage from Tori; but it had been wonderful to hear her brother's take on things.

He even sparred with her every now and then, teaching her techniques that Jii-sama had taught him. Nii-sama even helped Rukia refine her flash-step technique. Even though Rukia's shunpo was fairly good for a vice captain, she had never had an actual shunpo mentor before. Receiving training from Nii-sama was a deeply rewarding experience, not just because of what he could teach her, but because it gave them a means for them to continue healing together from the conflict-laden origin of their familial relationship.

...

Urahara Kisuke was restored to 12th division captain, although no lieutenant was named. Yoruichi seemed to be indifferent to returning to Soul Society, and chose to continue staying in retirement - although she still departed for the real world every now and then whenever Urahara or Soifon drove her crazy. Which, according to Ichigo, seemed to be pretty often. On more than one occasion, Ishida griped to him about his evening plans being spoiled when Yoruichi would crash at Orihime's place. Rukia wasn't sure how Yoruichi dealt with the food, but then again, perhaps it was easier to suffer through it if you were a cat.

Banzo Ichihime finally got her 6th division vice captain badge, although having been acting lieutenant for so long, it was more of a formality. Rukia laughed as Renji whistled a catcall when Sasakibe tied it on. Unlike most lieutenants, Ichihime wanted her badge to be tied across her back, as though she symbolically wanted it to cover where she would have worn the Banzo family crest. Since the disappearance of her father and her ascent to the role of Head of House, though, Ichihime had toned down a little bit. She was making lots of changes to the House of Banzo, and Rukia was glad to see that she could repair the damage her father did and craft her own destiny.

...

The 13th division cheered louder than anyone could have imagined as Kotetsu Kiyone took Ise Nanao's old post as 8th division vice captain, and Rukia could see a warm smile on her captain's face. Since Kiyone was living with Ukitake back at the Ugendo estate anyway, remaining in the 13th wasn't as important to Kiyone as it used to be. Kotsubaki was happy, too; he finally had a chance to step out from under her shadow and serve as the sole 3rd Seat for a change.

Komamura-sensei and Unohana Taicho had informed Rukia that Ukitake was going to propose sometime soon. Rukia had deduced as much but was happy to hear it from the cute couple. Unless Rukia's eyes were deceiving her, Unohana was pregnant - boy, that was _fast_ - but when Rukia mentioned as much to her captain, Ukitake had shrugged it off. Unohana was old enough that bearing children was somewhat of a more expedient concern for her; and from what Nanao told her, Unohana Retsu was a very open-minded woman. Rukia was certainly glad for that; it was nice to see Komamura-sensei with a companion. She was absolutely sure he would make a wonderful father, although like everyone else, she was intensely curious as to what exactly the baby would look like. Unless Rukia was completely misreading the situation, it seemed that even the Soutaicho was curious; which was surprising since he was not known to have any interest in children.

Rukia was proud of Kiyone. She had come a long way from the insecure, raving kid she once was. She was still impulsive and melodramatic, but she had matured quite a lot. The fact that her Kotetsu genes had finally kicked in probably helped - she had shot up an astounding three inches since the wedding.

At 5'3", she was still a far cry from her sister's height, but Kiyone was now at least a full head taller than Rukia. Her height was not the only recent change to her physique: Kiyone still wore gloves all the time - safeguards against the stinging bite of her shikai - but had abandoned the high-collared shirt. She was infinitely more tasteful than Matsumoto, but it was very clear that Kiyone no longer had reason to be envious of Isane's figure. Rukia had even caught Ukitake-sama staring a couple of times - she thought they made a highly unusual couple, but Rukia was glad that they had finally figured it out. It was about bloody time.

...

"Kurosaki Karin," General Yamamoto announced, "you have been examined by your captain, and he has found that you meet all the requirements of a vice captain's position. Do you feel his assessment is fair and just?"

"Hai," Karin responded, loud and clear.

"Do you swear to honor the Gotei 13, protect the the World of the Living, and all souls?"

"Hai," she confirmed again.

"Do you swear to purify the hollow so that the balance of all living things in this world and on earth may be maintained for all eternity?"

"Hai!"

"And do you promise to serve your captain and your squad with honor, dignity, and righteousness?"

_"Hai, I swear by the honor of my name and the honor of my sword, I shall!"_

...

Kotsubaki's phone beeped as he got a text message. He groaned, knowing what it was before he even flipped open his phone to confirm it. How in the world he ended up in this mess, he had no idea. Fate was such a bitch. Sentaro quickly called his pal, 9th seat Mushishi Kunda.

"Another booty call from the 2nd division captain? What's that, the third time this week?" came the other end with a snicker.

Kotsubaki swore. Ignoring Soifon Taicho's request was a fate much worse than waking up clueless, hanging upside-down from a lamp post with half of his head shaven off. "Come find me in the morning. And bring me a change of clothes this time, okay?"

-:-

_The trilogy ends here _

* * *

_Next chapter: Our story begins!_


	3. Sisters' Stresses

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_"What is bankai? I will tell you, Kanchi-kun. Some people will tell you that bankai is the ability to kill. Others will tell you that it is a heightened sense of awareness. You may hear that it is a deep understanding of your own soul. But in truth, that's just the bullshit people feed you because they can't describe it. Bankai is nothing more than an extreme readiness to fulfill your intended purpose - a complete absence of hesitation, a resolve so firm that it will never falter until you have accomplished your desires or changed them altogether. _

_"If that means you must kill, then you must be ready to kill without question. If that means you must die, then you must be ready to die without regret. Yes, to achieve peace with these extremes, you need both a heightened sense of awareness and a deep understanding of your soul - but those are merely tangential results. The key to bankai is not to achieve zen, to perfect one's self, or to forsake all doubt. No, that is not what bankai could ever be, because then none of us shinigami captains would still be human; for humanity is about learning from the mistakes that you will inevitably make every day of your life, bankai or not._

_"No, I will tell you the secret of how to achieve bankai. It is not necessarily to sit for endless hours and fight your zanpakutou until your knuckles bleed. Of course, that's often how we do it - how we prove to ourselves that we can conquer even the worst parts of ourselves. But that's not the only way. The real key to bankai, Kanchi-kun, the real way to achieve that unwavering level of resolve, is to prove to yourself that you **are** what you actually **wish to be****. **_

_"Now enough of this philosophic crap - come and drink some sake with your dear sweet Auntie K."_

_~Shiba Kuukaku, to her eldest niece, Shiba Kanchi of the infamous Shiba Triplets; nearly two centuries from now_

* * *

_Ten Years After the Wedding of Kuchiki Rukia to Kurosaki Ichigo - __Our Story Begins_

"You're upset, Kuchiki-san," Unohana commented as the vice captain's sword flew past her ear.

Rukia knew her sensei was right, but it didn't help her mood. She tried striking again, but missed by a mile. Converting into a backhand, she then tried to sockhop; rotating her momentum to propel her feet up towards the 4th division captain's chin for a powerful blow. It was a good attempt, but Rukia knew the moment she left the ground that her form was off.

Sure enough, she fell flat on her ass as Unohana sidestepped and gave her a simple tap on the chest in mid-air, redirecting the force of her motion to Rukia's disadvantage. The wind was knocked out of her, and Rukia knew she lost when Minazuki, still in its sheath, was pointed at her throat.

Determined not to give up despite having lost, Rukia batted Minazuki out of the way and hip-hopped to her feet. Taking an upper kendo stance that she was most familiar with, she let loose a barrage of shunpo-infused strikes, omnislashing from all sides.

Not that it mattered. Unohana was too perceptive, and easily dodged every strike with a twist of her hip, a bend of her waist, a turn of her head, or the briefest flicker of flash steps. Constantly missing her target left Rukia (who was already pissed off before she started training) seething in bitter annoyance with her own inadequacy. Even if she could land a blocked strike, at least it would mean she connected.

Sode no Shirayuki swung past as Unohana pirouetted, clubbing Rukia in the back of the knees with the back dull edge of her unsheathed Minazuki. This time, Rukia had a live katana at her throat, and stayed put.

"Fighting while angry is a disadvantage," Unohana reiterated, and then helped a very grumpy Rukia to her feet.

Rukia tried to put her Kuchiki mask back together and bowed her head respectfully. She knew Sensei was right, but she was too pissed off to internalize it at the moment. "Hai, Sensei."

For the past seven years, Rukia had been training her swordsmanship under Unohana Retsu. The only other person who had the privilege of having their ass handed to them every Monday was Hisagi Shuuhei. Both Rukia and Hisagi had graduated from Komamura Saijin's tutelage, and as per his instruction, now trained with his wife. Among the vice captains, Rukia was the obvious first choice for captainship should a position become vacant, so she felt it necessary to continue her training. It was an unspoken understanding between her and Nii-sama that, as one of the most famous shinigami in Soul Society, she had an image to preserve for the sake of the Kuchiki house; and Rukia had no desire to disappoint her brother. Or herself, for that matter.

Hisagi, on the other hand, had slightly different aspirations. First of all, as far as anyone knew, he didn't have bankai yet; meaning that after Rukia, only Madarame Ikkaku and Kotetsu Kiyone were eligible for a captain's seat (although many suspected that Head of House Banzo Ichihime was waiting to surprise someone). But Hisagi only had his eye on one particular position - he wanted to be the next Kenpachi, despite his known talent with kido.

Madarame Ikkaku knew that if he ever lived longer than Kenpachi Zaraki, he was likely next in line to be captain of the 11th - and he knew that Hisagi would immediately challenge him for the Kenpachi title. Hisagi's raw skill with a sword was unmatched amongst the vice captains, even better than that of Rukia or Ichihime. It was unclear if Hisagi would ever be able to compete with the three sword masters - Kyoraku, Ukitake or Unohana - but already-appointed captains were not eligible for the Kenpachi title anyway; so Hisagi was in the clear. Even without a bankai, only Ikkaku would dare taking on Hisagi Shuuhei in a straight zanjutsu fight. Kotetsu Kiyone would never agree to such conditions, because without bankai, she knew she would lose.

Unohana returned a polite bow to the Kuchiki princess, and then they both sheathed their zanpakutou. Rukia, zero; Unohana, seven hundred and eighty two. Just another Monday in this shit-infested life of mine, Rukia thought.

"Care to discuss what's bothering you?" Unohana asked, knowing the answer would be the same as it always was.

"No, Sensei," Rukia answered, forcibly politely. If Nii-sama ever heard her talking like this to Unohana Taicho, he would have disowned her. Fortunately, Unohana Retsu understood Rukia's mindset at the moment and wouldn't hold it against her.

Unohana knew her student wasn't coping well, but she also knew it wouldn't help to comment on it at the moment. It wasn't her place. She would take the back route and pass the message through her former kido student, Ise Nanao, who might as well have been Rukia's sister considering how close they were. Instead, she tried to intimate her way into the discussion, hoping Kuchiki might open up. "Staying in town for a few days?"

"Yes," Rukia responded curtly. She knew it was a bit rude but didn't care. Unohana was nice enough to put up with her, and it felt good to be able to just seethe without worrying about whether or not she would pay for it later. Three days, and she would be back in Tokyo; back to the grind. Back to her husband. It couldn't come soon enough.

-:-

_Three days later_

"C'mon, Ichigo, what's taking so long?"

"You know, it's not like I just woke up! Give me a break!"

"Your break only lasts another eight minutes - hurry up!"

"You're not helping!"

Rukia sighed. He was completely right. There was no way they were going to finish before his break was over if she didn't calm down and try to remember that he was the one who had to do all the work. Stressing him out with too much pressure was not going to get either of them anywhere. "Sorry. You're right. Here," she suggested, signaling him to step back for a minute.

He complied. Rukia rolled over on the hospital bed onto her stomach, then stuck her naked bottom up in the air and waggled it at him. "C'mon, baby, make it good."

Ichigo seemed to respond well to her change in tone and position, and it only took another minute or two until he was hefting her feet up into a handstand. They played their little game of trying to mess up each other's counting, until he set her down gently on the gurney. She noticed that Ichigo had been thoughtful and set a towel aside for her ahead of time.

Before he hopped back into his body slumped down in a nearby chair, she grabbed him and gave his mouth a quick kiss. "Thanks," Rukia smiled appreciatively. "I know it's hard to jump out of work for me."

Ichigo smiled back. "We both do what we can," he answered, and gave her another peck before jumping back into his body. He looked at his watch, short for time, and gestured kindly to his wife. "See you later, 'k?"

"Yep," she answered, shifting her dress-like shikusho back into place now that she had re-donned her panties and short hakama. She lingered for a moment in the empty hospital room until he left and shut the door behind him, and then she opened up a senkai gate and headed back to Soul Society for a few hours.

-:-

"Hey, Kurosaki-san!"

Karin sighed before turning around. She knew what was coming, and while she would have preferred to just ignore him, Karin knew it was better to be polite. She brushed some hair out of her face and turned to see Hirudo trying to catch up to her. "Yagami-san," she greeted him, somewhat surprised. Karin had been hit on just about every day in her four-year tenure at Osaka University, but Hirudo had never really spoken more than a few words to her before. Not that she cared - she was just surprised that he would now, all-of-a-sudden.

Hirudo caught up with her with ease. Karin tried as hard as she could not to roll her eyes - Hirudo was, as usual, showing off by walking around without a shirt; thinking that he looked oh-so-cool with it slung over his shoulder. Karin admitted that he was handsome and had an impressive body, with thick, beefy arms and a six-pack that could have been chiseled out of rock. Still, it was just flashy for no reason.

I've got quite a chest myself, Karin thought, you don't see me flashing it everywhere.

"Doing anything tonight, Kurosaki-san?"

"Studying," she replied, trying not to sound rude but perhaps hoping it came across that way regardless.

"For what?" he laughed. "Didn't you have your last exam today?"

"Graduate school entrance exam," she explained tersely.

"You're going to grad school?" Yagami asked, honestly surprised.

Karin was fairly offended by that. "Is that a problem, Yagami-san?"

"No, no - I just thought that with soccer-"

Karin cut him off. "Well, just because _I like to kick balls_ doesn't mean I want to limit my options."

Yagami ran his hand over his shaven head. "Ne, Kurosaki-san, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, really. Look, I'm sure you've got some studying to do, but it's the night after finals! Take a night off. Why don't you join me and my buds tonight? We're gonna go into town and celebrate, I thought you might want to come along."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass," she said, feigning politeness.

"Some other time, maybe then?"

She sighed. She wasn't sure whether the varsity rugby captain was doggedly persistent, or just thick. "Yagami-san, I have a boyfriend."

He took a step back, giving her some space, but the expression on his face told Karin that he wasn't quite dissuaded yet. "Really? I haven't ever seen you with anyone on campus. I don't mean to intrude, but it sounds like this boyfriend of yours isn't around very often. Maybe you would do better with someone who could offer you more frequent company."

Oh great, the persistent type, Karin muttered to herself. "My boyfriend is a captain in the _military_ and is currently on _assignment_," she replied sternly, hoping that would send the message loud and clear.

Yagami didn't seem too fazed, but let it drop. "Alright, well, I pray for his safe return, then. But if you find yourself feeling lonely in your dorm room with all that studying tonight, please feel free to reconsider."

Karin turned her back on him abruptly and started to walk away. "Goodbye, Yagami-san."

He just chuckled. "Later, Kurosaki-san."

I hope not, Karin thought.

-:-

Nanao rubbed her temples. Her vice captain was driving her absolutely batty. How that bastard Tanabi ever put up with him was beyond her comprehension. Although, come to think of it, he was good at paperwork; perhaps it was his only redeeming quality. "Fuwu-san, I don't care whether the plates are indigo, perrywinkle, azure, or any other shade of blue. It makes no difference. Just order them."

Fuwu Yashitori, a paradoxically stringy-yet-maddeningly-obese balding man who had the most shrill voice in existence, wrote down some notes. "And then, what do you think about the silverware?"

Saya was yelling at her wielder to just stab him already and be done with it, but Nanao shushed her. "Fuwu-san, I don't think about the silverware. _I. Don't. Care._ I do not care what you order for our mess hall, as long as I can eat food with it. Actually, no, I don't even care about them at all, since I eat with chopsticks. Now if you don't have any pressing questions that pertain to the actual functioning of the Kido Corps, I would suggest you let me go back to my reports."

"Just one more thing, Ise-Shosho," he asked, his absurdly long Chinese mustache twittering against his Scandinavian face. "Which pattern do you like better for the napkins?"

Nanao grit her teeth and counted to twenty. It was going to be a long day.

-:-

Yoruichi was losing it. "No, Soifon, you cannot babysit Zarina-chan. Have you ever babysat before, _ever_?"

"But I could learn, Yoruichi-sama!"

"Soifon, really, do you think you have the patience for a toddler? I mean, c'mon, _diapers?_ When did you ever change a diaper?"

"But Yoruichi-sama, I-"

Yoruichi brought her hand to her head in a clear sign of exasperation. "Zarina-chan is also a handful, Soifon. You can't punish her the same way you would Omaeda."

"I know that," she answered meekly. "But Zarina-chan likes me, and-"

"Of course she likes you," Yoruichi retorted, exasperated at Soifon's insistence. "Any kid would love flashing around on shunpo rides. And by the way, the last time you did that, Zarina-chan puked all over Tsubaki-chan afterwards."

Soifon blushed and looked away, guilty. "Sorry. I won't do that again." How come Hana San Seki gets to babysit all the time? she wondered to herself, but didn't voice it out loud. "I just want to spend some time with you and Zarina-chan, and I thought I could help watch her so that you could take it easy, or attend to the babies, or- - -"

The Shihoin princess was honestly quite flustered. Ever since she and Kisuke had returned to Soul Society a decade ago, Soifon had slowly and steadily regressed back into an overworshipping teenager. It was a bit sad that the current head of the Fon family had her whole self-esteem hinge on Yoruichi's every word. "Look, Soifon, I know you mean well, but maybe when Zarina-chan is a bit older."

Soifon sighed in defeat, her whole body sagging in disappointment. "Hai, Yoruichi-sama."

Yoruichi breathed a sigh of relief and went to look for Kisuke. She had no energy left trying to convince Soifon it was time to leave, so that was going to be her husband's job. It was fair punishment for inadvertently teaching Zarina-chan how to swear in Russian last week, she thought, and so she went off in search of him.

-:-

_Elsewhere_

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Are you thirsty?"

"No."

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No."

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No."

"Would you like to fix something today?"

"No."

"Would you like me to stay with you?"

A pause. "No."

"Would you like me to come back tomorrow?"

"Yes," she answers without hesitation.

"Okay," I say. "Good night."

She nods, and I leave quietly. Sometimes she just needs space.

* * *

_Sorry for the short chapter. The next chapter will be out soon, don't worry. :) -njx_


	4. Lovely, Loving, Love, and Lovers

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

**_Translator's note: _**_the arcane honorific 'no-kimi' (even more arcane than -dono) indicates an enormous level of respect; even more than -sama. It is roughly equivalent to "your lordship" in English parlance._

___**Author's note: **This chapter contains content that some may consider inflammatory. The intent is to tell a story from multiple viewpoints, even those that I personally disagree with. So don't read into anything too much - I do not intend this story to be political in any way, just merely representative of real-life differences of opinion. Thanks. -njx_  


* * *

_"Sorry, buddy, but I could never date a girl whose sword is bigger than mine."_  
_~Shiba Pancho, of the infamous Shiba Triplets _

* * *

Tatsuki considered herself strictly hetero, but when she saw Rukia come through the senkai gate into the hospital wing, she began to wonder if she should reconsider.

It was clear that Rukia was entirely ready to skip dinner and a movie; she looked absolutely killer. Rukia was wearing a shimmery, silky red haltertop and an ultra-short black spandex miniskirt, with open-toed stillettos that in most circles were known as 'fuck me' shoes. Her nails on fingers and toes were all painted a bright red to match her top - and the last time Rukia had painted her nails was probably at her wedding ten years ago. The clincher, though, was Rukia's hair. Her bangs had been slicked over to the side, which for Rukia might have well been a completely new hairstyle, and the last centimeter of her hair had been dyed scarlet red to match.

The oncology nurse and full-fledged member of Division Black took a deep breath to calm herself. Tatsuki was getting excited just looking at the shinigami guest. It's a good thing Rukia was married, Tatsuki kidded herself, or I might have to pinch her butt.

Normally, Rukia would never be seen _anywhere_ like that. Besides the fact that such attire was completely out of place for the most respected Sereitei princess in history, Rukia herself was an extremely modest and demure woman. There was no way in a thousand years Rukia would _ever_ be caught alive in that outfit.

Of course, she was from the land of the dead. At the moment, the only two people in the building who could see her were Tatsuki, and one of the medical residents currently in round at the oncology department. Said medical resident was Rukia's husband and Tatsuki's Division Black captain, Kurosaki Ichigo.

Tatsuki hadn't seen Rukia in anything other than her standard shinigami uniform, complete with the Kuchiki House adornments, for an extremely long time. In fact, as far as Tatsuki could tell, Rukia hadn't even been in a gigai in years. The only reason she really ever wore one anymore was so that Yuzu could see her. These days, that unfortunately wasn't often.

She looked around to make sure no one would notice her calling out to a ghost. "Hey Lieutenant," Tatsuki teased, "nice to see you out of uniform. What's the occasion?"

Rukia caught notice of the athletic R.N. who still had time to teach karate school at night. "Tatsuki-san! Have you seen Ichigo?" Rukia inquired, looking at her ever-present watch. It was a silver-faced chronometer with a black leather band, and Tatsuki noticed it matched her ensemble.

I should really try that look, Tatsuki thought. That haltertop would look dynamite on me. "Just finished with a patient and went to go talk to his resident advisor before his break," she supplied.

Rukia smiled with a bit of relief. "Alright - which way?"

Tatsuki shrugged and pointed down the hall. "So what's with the getup?"

Rukia hesitated, clearly unsure if she was explaining too much. Tatsuki could tell she was hiding the hardship. "Well, I... I thought it would make it a bit easier."

Tatsuki nodded in understanding, but then had a devilish idea. "Why don't you go distract him?"

"I don't know... I mean, he's working..."

"Rukia-san, go. It can't be easy at this time of the day. Go; it'll be good for both of you."

Rukia nodded after some hestitation, but then Tatsuki barely caught her flash down the hallway. Tatsuki swore to herself - Rukia was _fast_, way faster than she had been before she started training with her brother - and there was no way she wanted to miss the show. Settling down her clipboard and deciding that playing hooky for a moment or two wouldn't hurt anybody, Tatsuki ran off down the hallway to go peer around the corner at a certain carrot-topped resident.

-:-

"Taicho-sama, I was wondering if you had some time to... maybe... answer a personal question."

Byakuya raised his eyebrow. His vice captain, Banzo Ichihime, had a strictly professional relationship with him. They worked very well together, but their interaction was always formal and followed typical military protocol to a T. Banzo Ichihime was an exceptional lieutenant - her close-quarter combat skills were phenomenal, and she had complete mastery of hado spells up to level 40, which was unusual for a shinigami who fought so well with a zanpakutou. He sparred with her regularly, and she learned quickly - she was never shy about asking him for his advice on chaining kido, perfecting her shunpo, or meditation techniques to achieve bankai. But _personal_ matters? Whereas Byakuya's previous vice captain, Abarai Renji, had at least confided in him every now and then, Ichihime never did. The most he knew about her personal life was that she almost always had rice tempura for lunch. "What troubles you, Banzo-san?"

Ichihime breathed deeply. This was going to be an extraordinarily awkward conversation. "I was hoping to ask you for some advice - but not as your subordinate. As your peer."

Byakuya was suprised (not that it showed). Technically speaking, they were both a Head of House, and should be equals. It was an unspoken agreement between them that they never discussed House matters, as it was a potential can of worms. Banzo Ichihime was the only Head of the Four Houses who had not yet achieved status of captain in the Gotei 13. This would have been fine if she wasn't serving underneath the Head of Kuchiki House (who was married to the Head of Shiba House), but the resulting public perception was that it was a sleight to her honor and a bit of disgrace; as if to say that the House of Banzo was subservient to the Houses of Kuchiki and Shiba. While Banzo-san didn't care, Byakuya did; both for her honor and also because he did not want to present the image of either he or his wife Kuukaku as taking advantage of her precarious social position.

It was already difficult enough for Byakuya to walk this fine line, presenting Banzo Ichihime with the appropriate honor yet making sure the perception of an iron order of command was never compromised. As such, when it came to the _House_ of Banzo, Byakuya completely recused himself. If Kuukaku was unable to handle it because it required official Kuchiki representation, Byakuya delegated the responsibility to Rukia. Imoto-san and Banzo-san had good rapport, and because they were both lieutenants in the Gotei 13, there was a greater public perception of equality.

"Although I normally recuse myself from such matters, I will certainly try to meet such a personal request. I cannot say that my advice will be wise," he noted. Byakuya had learned enough in the past decade to know that he had yet to attain wisdom, but took solace in the fact that he was finally on the road to finding it. It would be many miles before he got there, but he would do his best.

Ichihime hesitated, trying to find words to express herself in a remotely dignified fashion. "As you know, the highest nobility in Soul Society has traditionally had the responsibility of maintaining the royal bloodline."

Byakuya closed his eyes, knowing all too well how much trouble his first marriage had caused, and how his sister's adoption had nearly caused a revolt in the Council for Nobility. Beyond that, he said nothing.

"I... have a predicament. The House of Shihoin and the Families of Kyoraku and Hikifune are my family; so my options are already limited. There are no more bachelors in the other two Houses, so I am left with the Families of Fon, Kuzaku, Omaeda, Sasakibe, Urahara, and Nikayui if I wish to promulgate the bloodline."

He nodded.

"The only bachelors in the Omaeda or Sasakibe families are Marechiyo Fukutaicho and Chojiro Fukutaicho."

Byakuya gestured that she need not explain. He could conceive of no situation in which anyone should be forced to marry the 2nd division's oaf. The 1st division vice captain, while a noble and honorable choice, was a wholly inappropriate match for her, because of age as much as temperament.

"The Fon family has no male heirs; the Kuzaku and Urahara families' sons are all married; leaving me with a choice of two sons in the Nikayui family; neither of which are shinigami."

"Really?" Byakuya commented. It surprised him. The mother, Nikayui Shirani, was in the Royal Guard.

"Yes," she confirmed. "I have met neither of them, and I have no basis upon which to judge them, but..."

"...but you are clearly not left with many options," Byakuya concluded, sparing her the indignity of stating such a thing on her own. "What is your question?"

Ichihime collapsed into a chair, completely losing her 'princess speech' as her frustration got to her. "Goddamnit, who the fucking hell can stand this political shit? I don't wanna marry any of these arrogant, stuffy bastards."

Byakuya was shocked that she had lost her composure - her unrefined side came out on the battlefield all the time, but she never lost it in the office. When she talked with him, her formality was as ramrod straight as an iron pole. "I see."

She stared off into space, distant and clearly upset. "I'll confess, Taicho-sama. I don't love Renji. He'd make a terrible father, and he's not the most considerate guy I've ever met. But he likes me - _me_, the real Ichihime that no one else is allowed to see. I don't love him, but if I could seriously be given the chance to, I think I could - and for me, that's saying something."

Her captain took a deep breath before responding. "I understand your predicament. Indeed, the other three Heads of House were fortunate enough to marry those that they love. I acknowledge that it is unfair that you are unable to easily do the same."

"No one understands my problem better than you do. You are the only Head of House in recent memory who ever married outside the upper noble houses."

He nodded, and his next words dismayed her. "Unfortunately, that does not mean I have the answers to your question."

"What do you propose I do, then? Break Renji's heart by making overtures to the Nikayui family?"

Byakuya spoke very carefully, as he was about to confess a side to him that would have left him vulnerable. He was never comfortable with that, despite his many years of trying to become a more open, emotional person. "Matters of the heart are not to be taken lightly," he said quietly. "I am fortunate to have realized this truth, yet I have not attained the sagacity necessary to answer your dilemna. I do propose, though, that you speak with your uncle."

"_Shunsui-ojisama?_ Love counsel from a womanizer? No offense, Taicho-sama, but that... seems like unusual advice."

He worded his reply cautiously. "Kyoraku-san has a reputation, but lately it has not been so deserved. He seems to have the seeds of an actual relationship at the moment with Rantao Fukutaicho, so perhaps you may be able to take his advice more seriously."

Ichihime allowed a tiny laugh to escape. She had no idea about her uncle's relationship with the new 12th division vice captain, but it didn't surprise her. From what Ise-senpai had told her, Shunsui-ojisama always did have a thing for women with glasses. "Alright, then. I'll ask him." _Right after pigs fly and you start breakdancing to polka music, Taicho._

"Is there anything else I can help you with, Banzo-no-kimi?" he asked using this most formal honorific, trying to portray the situation as one between equals.

The gesture startled Ichihime. Normally, she truly detested receiving these little displays of honor, but from him it was not a trivial thing. She took it graciously, and put her proper composure back into place. "No, you have been most helpful, Kuchiki-no-kimi," she replied, sure to use the title back to him; where it was much more well deserved.

Byakuya nodded politely despite being fully aware that he had been no help at all, and then returned to his paperwork. Ichihime stayed for a few more moments, contemplative; and then departed.

-:-

Ichigo was trying to listen to Kato-sensei's instructions about the next slew of patients he was going to be seeing after his break, but he was hopelessly distracted. His wife, who looked _soooooooo _fine, was sauntering over with a sexy swagger in her hips and her tongue curled over her upper lip in a divinely seductive pose. The last time she got his blood roiling this fast was when they went clubbing five or six years ago. There was a reason Ichigo's favorite song was 'Crazy in Love', and it had absolutely _nothing _to do with Beyonce. Yeah, he was _definitely _distracted.

He also knew that he was the only one of the two of them that could see her.

Rukia was circling around him, deliberately swishing her sensuous features in every which way. Ichigo was attempting to hold a conversation with his oncology supervisor, and probably came across like a complete idiot. He was managing not to completely bumble up until she had managed to jump on his back, wrap her legs around his waist, slip her spirit-hands into his shirt and begin to nibble on his ear.

"Kurosaki, are you okay?" Dr. Kato asked him. He was behaving very, very oddly; almost like he was suffering attention-deficit disorder.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry; I have, um, just a bit of gas, that's all," he blurbled. Aw man, what a stupid thing to say, he thought. That's gotta be a turnoff.

Rukia didn't seem to notice. She just hopped down and wrapped her invisible, immaterial hands around his waist, slowly sliding them under his belt just an inch. It was a not-quite-obscene gesture, but it was making his whole body twitch. "Hey, Big Johnson, you got some time for me?" she sang slyly, the words practically making his soul jump out of his body.

"Kurosaki? You there?"

"Uh, sorry, Kato-sensei; I'm, er, just a bit uncomfortable. Would you, uh, er, mind if I come back to you after I've had my break? I, uh, need to make it to the men's room."

"Oh yes you do, Soldier," his wife commented, her spirit body pressing up against his physical one and nearly making him lose his composure.

The doctor looked at him a bit funny but decided that wasn't a bad idea. "Alright, I'll see you in ten minutes," he sighed. Thinking about it for a second, Kato added, "Actually, you look like maybe you need a bit more than that - come to my office in twenty."

Rukia smiled up at him, swishing her styled hair to the side to flaunt her exposed neck, shoulder, and upper chest. "Ooh, extra time today, honey," she commented, reaching for the zipper on his trousers. "From the looks of Colussus down here, I bet you can't wait to take advantage of it," she teased.

Ichigo swallowed, trying to contain himself, and then nodded. "Arigato, Sensei."

The doctor gave him one last funny look and then departed around the corner. Within a heartbeat, Ichigo dived into a supply closet, whacked his soul out of his body with his badge, and was dragging Rukia into an empty patient room in the oncology wing. It was the best sex they'd had in the past five months. There was no doubt that he was going to be late for his meeting with Kato-sensei, but he didn't care.

-:-

Tatsuki was doing everything she could not to explode laughing as she hurried out of the way so that her boss wouldn't find her spying. I know it's tragic, but that was freaking hilarious, she thought. Oh god, real life can be waaaay funnier than the movies.

-:-

Kotsubaki stifled a yelp as Soifon bit his bicep with ferocious strength. As could be anticipated from someone in the Covert Ops, she hated making noise while they had sex and always did this when she was climaxing. That, and because she liked to beat the crap out of him in general. Sure enough, the telltale punch into his left pectoral muscle came shortly thereafter; the rib-crushing blow knocking him off of her. Soifon didn't do subtlety.

He was used to it by now. She had been using and abusing him off and on for ten years already. At first, she would wipe his mind and dump him somewhere, usually naked in an embarassingly public place. It was so awful that he threatened to charge her with sexual harassment, and to his surprise, rather than kill him, she left him alone for a couple of years. Maybe she found some other victim, or maybe she was just busy; he didn't know; but he had been grateful. About six years ago, the booty calls began ringing on his phone, and when he didn't answer them, she drugged him and locked him in her cellar for a weekend. In the interest of his own survival, he promised to cooperate if she wouldn't do the whole blank-and-dump thing anymore.

In hindsight, he thought perhaps he should have just threatened her with harassment again.

Now he was stuck in this... relationship, for lack of a better word. Sentaro didn't really like Soifon. In honesty, he thought she was a cold, heartless bitch with no feelings for anyone except Shihoin Yoruichi. But she wasn't awful-looking, and the sex was good. That was what he told himself, anyway; because in reality, he hated every last second with the cruel harpy. The only thing that kept him in this relationship was the fear that she would slit his scrotum if he didn't show up at her beck and call.

Sentaro took a moment to feel sorry for himself. His father Jinemon had been the lieutenant under the previous 7th division captain, Aikawa Love. Kotsubaki Jinemon was the badass to end all badasses; even more badass than the badass 9th division vice captain, Hisagi Shuuhei. Jinemon was tougher than steel, and radiated 100% pure manly masculinity. So far, Sentaro had failed to come close to following in his father's footsteps.

Kotsubaki's father died around ninety-five years ago. He died like a real man, taking out six thugs in a barfight until some drunk coward stabbed him in the back. Sentaro had been a young academy student back then, but not naive. He grew up fast - his mother had run off with another man many decades before, and suddenly he was all alone. Except for his sake. That was his constant companion.

Alone and empty, it washed away the pain of failure, so he drank more of it. How he passed the academy exam and made it into the Gotei 13, he had no idea. Perhaps Ukitake Taicho took pity on him; maybe it was because he was good at being a whipped and subservient man. Maybe it was because the 13th regularly took in the younger shinigami (like Kotetsu Kiyone) and he was good with them. Who knows. In any case, Sentaro was thankful. If not for Ukitake Jushiro, Kotsubaki Sentaro would still be drunk. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic; but he hadn't had a drop of sake in over forty-two years.

If his father was still alive, he would probably call Sentaro a wuss - a pansy for letting the bottle rule him, and then a bigger pansy for not being able to drink anymore. He was only further emasculated by the fact that he would be stuck forever behind women. His longtime rival, Kotetsu Kiyone, had always outclassed him; and indeed she was now a vice captain. The gap in skill between him and his fukutaicho, Kuchiki Rukia, was bigger than the difference between him and the lowest unseated officer in his division (and the 13th was by far the largest). It was like an earthworm looking up to the heavens.

He hadn't even been a particularly exceptional third seat like Madarame Ikkaku in the 11th, or Hana Tsubaki in the 2nd. It went without saying that a comparison to the previous 13th division 3rd seat didn't help. Even the idea of comparing him to Shiba Miyako seemed absurd. And of course, now, he was Soifon's sex slave; hopelessly unable to get himself out of it without fear of losing his testicles. The regular abuse he took from the diminutive leader of the Onmitsukido didn't help his self-esteem.

Soifon tossed him his clothes and then kicked him hard in between the legs. Kotsubaki fell to his knees in gasping agony. She was a complete sadist, and he had marks and bruises all over - but this was mean and nasty, even for her. It hurt a thousand times worse than the other shit she did to him. Seeing stars, he barely heard her laugh darkly as she gave him her version of a goodbye kiss, licking his cheek suggestively and then biting it. Hard. Enough to leave bloody teeth marks on his face.

"Thanks, lover," Soifon said seductively. "You know you love me, because you like it _rough_," she grinned, the mean twinge of cruelty layered into her otherwise angry voice. "You love the pain, and I know it. That's why you love me, Kotsubaki-chan. Because I know you love the way I make you feel like a _man_," she grinned maniacally before slamming the door in his face, the impact smashing him in the nose. As his head rang a thousand gongs, his bloody nose leaked, and his pelvis throbbed, he thought about how pathetic a man he was.

Still unable to move, the door to Soifon's room in the barracks opened momentarily - and she dumped a bucket of ice water on him. It was so jarringly cold that he jumped, the pain in his groin reverberating in his skull at the movement. The dominatrix gave another sinister snicker as she pushed him out of the way. The 2nd division captain was fully dressed now, and she left him on the floor of the hallway in the prison officer's barracks, smirking after giving him an affectionate whack on the rump.

Affectionate in the sense that at least it wasn't hard enough to break his tailbone.

Kotsubaki's clothes were now sopping wet, but he put them on anyway. Soifon didn't even have the courtesy to abuse him back at the Fon manor at the edge of the Shihoin estate, where at least he wouldn't be left disgraced in front of the other shinigami in her division. On more than one occasion, Omaeda Marechiyo had found him in a crumpled heap with his clothes torn ragged, or his head shaved, or with his face decorated in women's cosmetics. It was no wonder Kotsubaki was a laughingstock amongst the Gotei 13. At least Soifon stayed away from the 13th division barracks - his seated officers barely respected him enough as it was. Hell, the only reason they probably listened to him was because Kuchiki Fukutaicho would kick the shit out of them if they didn't.

Beaten and downtrodden, Sentaro put on his freezing wet clothes and gingerly headed back to the 13th division. He was not looking forward to his daily meeting with the other seated officers in his current state. Honestly, all he really wanted was to die of shame and have no one ever remember his humiliation ever again.

-:-

Orihime looked in the mirror and tried to remember that she had been beautiful once.

Her bony hips were the only remnant she had of ever having been a woman. Her once buxom chest was flat and scarred, the two scars forming a large 'V' across her pale torso. She was still hairless from head to toe and everything in between; so she looked sadly prepubescent. Orihime had lost a horrifying amount of weight, and her ribs poked out from beneath the taught, pale skin.

Inoue Orihime was a survivor, though. She only had one more month of chemotherapy, and then it was just the radiation therapy for another three months. Her prognosis was very positive at this point. Although the tumor in her right breast had been very large, it hadn't yet metastisized and spread to the rest of her body, so they performed a mastectomy and monitored her. When they saw a small, aggressive tumor form in her left breast shortly afterwards, they resorted to aggressive treatment, which included another mastectomy combined with chemo and radiation. Orihime may not grow her auburn hair as long as she had once had it, but she hopefully wouldn't have the indignity of dying bald.

One more month, and she could start to live again. To finally get married, she thought, looking at the ring Uryu had given her over two years ago, sitting in its case on the shelf. They had to postpone the wedding indefinitely because of her cancer, and she had lost so much weight that the ring fell off her finger. Rather than have it resized, she kept it the way it was, promising herself that she would recover and become healthy enough to wear it again.

Uryu had put his whole life on hold, deferring medical school and working part-time as a paramedic to help take care of her. She didn't have anyone else, save for some distant cousins that lived in Europe who had supported her during high school. They couldn't fly out to Japan because of the war; which had imposed heavy travel restrictions.

In truth, Orhime wasn't even sure that they would come even if they could. It had taken her many years to realize it, but sending money and allowing a young teenager to live by herself in an urban town was not exactly the loving thing to do. They should have sent her to live in Ireland with them - which would have obviously been less expensive in the long run - and they never really called her. She had invited Mary-san and Bob-san to visit almost two years ago, which was long before the war broke out - but they declined.

Doubts and fears accompanied her along the way. What happened if Uryu wouldn't find her attractive anymore? He hadn't seen her disrobed since a year and a half ago, just before she found out about her cancer. Would he still want to marry her? Would he feel like he was marrying a woman, or would her flat chest make him feel like he was a pedophile? It was silly, she knew - Ishida Uryu had loved her for a long time and was completely devoted to her, but that didn't assuage her fears. Just because he loved her doesn't mean it would be easy for him afterwards. Things would never be the same - the question was this: how much would change, and would he change with it? These fears haunted her every day; the self-doubt gripping her and making her wonder that even if she recovered physically, would she ever recover emotionally? Orihime wasn't sure.

Getting dressed, she put on a pair of underwear, not bothering with a tampon. Her period had stopped ever since the chemo started. Orihime debated putting on one of her falsetto bras - ones padded enough to at least mimic a womanly figure that were designed for breast cancer victims - but decided she wasn't in the mood to pretend to be a woman today. Outside of cosmetic reasons, a bra was pointless. It wasn't like her nipples were going to poke out; she didn't even have nipples anymore. So instead, she just threw on a baggy t-shirt. Sighing, Orihime put on a pair of pre-teen jeans she bought recently (they were the only kind that fit anymore) and an oversized beret, and then went back to the mirror to brood over her pathetic appearance again.

Trying not to cry, she grabbed her purse and her keys. Orihime had yet another checkup at the hospital. Sometimes, she wondered if she should just live there. At least she would get to see Tatsuki-chan; maybe she might be able to stop in endocrinology and see Hiyori-san if she was in for her usual dialysis.

Orihime had always wondered why Hiyori-san never let her restore her body like she did for Soifon's arm after the Winter War. She supposed it was a pride thing; remembering how Kuukaku-san had also refused her restorative abilities. Not that it mattered anymore, she thought. The cancer had completely killed her Shun Shun Rikka. How that was possible, nobody knew; but Orihime was now just a regular human like everyone else (well, except that she could still see spirit-based beings).

Declaring herself hungry (a true appetite is always elusive for chemo patients), she stopped for a quick bowl of udon with red bean paste, calamari, peanut butter and balsamic vinegar. Thankfully, cancer could never take away her appreciation for delicious food.

-:-

Enjoji Tatsufasa, 3rd Seat of the 8th Division, was enjoying the walk out in the Rukongai. Perhaps because the weather was perfect, perhaps it was because he was on a cushy assignment. Or perhaps because walking with his current vice captain reminded him how for the past ten years, he had been free of the deathly temperament of his former vice captain, Ise Nanao. Unlike Ise Fukutaicho, Kiyone Fukutaicho (no one used her last name anymore, it avoided confusion between her and her older sister) took a more vested interest in her subordinates. Whereas Ise ruled with an iron fist, Kiyone was more personable and had more of a give-and-take relationship with her seated officers. Enjoji could tell that over the past ten years, Kiyone had matured, both in personality and wisdom, and she was a good leader - his original impression of her as an ill-tempered brat had since disappeared.

That didn't mean she wasn't scary as hell. One of the only two vice captains known to have bankai, the golden-haired busty beauty could crush him flat. Whereas Ise Fukutaicho would have glared at him until his bones melted through some silently-initiated kido, Enjoji knew from sparring with the 6'1" Kiyone Fukutaicho that you didn't mess with her. When she punched you in the face, you could feel it in your toes; and when she kicked you in the hamstring, your teeth hurt.

To Enjoji's chagrin, she was married. He found her unusually attractive - the past decade had been very kind to her. She had grown her hair out long now, tied back in a single, modest ponytail. Her uniform was standard issue, but it was clearly a size too small, as it didn't close all the way in the front; leaving a revealing-yet-still-tactful view of her cleavage. If anything ever happened to Ukitake Jushiro, Enjoji was going all in. Not that he thought he would ever really get the chance, but Kiyone was definitely more pleasant to look at than his previous mission partner Banzo-sama had been. He momentarily shuddered at the thought of imagining Banzo-sama naked, with all those hairy moles everywhere. Ick.

He had been so busy looking at his lieutenant's ass that he barely noticed when they had arrived at their first destination on their patrol route, a Rukongai checkpoint next to a small temple. Kiyone turned to him, and he flustered for a moment, hoping she didn't notice his ogling.

"Seems quiet," Kiyone said.

"It usually is, Fukutaicho," he replied.

"It shouldn't be," she frowned. "At least not today. It's Festere."

"Festere?" he asked, puzzled.

"The weekly day of rest. The crowds should be here by now."

"Maybe they're inside the church," he suggested.

Kiyone paused for a minute. "Are you a religious man, Enjoji-san?"

"Me? No," he answered. They had been making the stop here for a few days now, but she had never asked him this. "I don't believe in any deities. My family tells me that our ethnic culture on Earth had many gods, but after dying and coming here, it made no sense to believe in the gods anymore."

"Interesting," Kiyone thought out loud. "I find it intriguing that your family chose to base their current beliefs from their religion on Earth."

"Permission to speak candidly, Fukutaicho."

"Permission granted."

"Curiousity struck me. Are you Circular, or Continuous?"

"Neither," she answered. "but I do believe in God. This particular shrine is open to all; which is why I like this route."

"Is there a reason you didn't join either the Following of the Circle or the Church of Continuity?"

Kiyone shrugged. "Both religions had similar origins - the war on Earth brought a large influx of new souls, many of whom were shocked to find out that their afterlife is a bit different than what they expected. As a shinigami who found my faith, I had no such illusions."

Enjoji sighed, dismissive. "Eh, who'd wanna be a part of either of those stupid cults anyway."

"They aren't 'stupid cults', Enjoji," Kiyone spat at him with a disgusted glare. "Earth has millions of people faithful to a higher force, something greater than themselves. The devout do a lot of good in the world. When they die and see that the afterlife is different than they imagine, it's an incredibly hard adjustment."

"So they go back to pretending," he replied, unimpressed.

"Don't be so dismissive," she reacted. "You and I both know without doubt that there is a Hell. Some power greater than us all - call it Fate, call it God, call it whatever you want - some greater being still judges every one of us and determines who was righteous and who was not. It's perfectly sensible that these people would simply find a faith that better fits the facts that they know."

Enjoji paused. He had never considered this point before, and he saw logic in it. "I'll concede that you have a point. But still - people do crazy things in the name of religion. Look at the war in the human world right now - those idiots in Europe are annihilating each other left and right, each one saying 'my god is better than your god'. If that's what your god had in mind, I don't think he's all that special."

"That's over the line, Enjoji," Kiyone answered, her tone clearly rescinding her permission for candid speech. She was used to defending herself to someone who clearly wouldn't deviate from their preestablished worldview, but his disrespectful sneer pissed her off and she didn't want to discuss it further.

Kiyone was well aware of the idiocy that had started the war on Earth a number of years ago. The Disciples of Kathura, some unheard-of religion founded on some tiny unnamed islands in the Latvian sea (which were previously thought to be uninhabited) had supposedly acquired weapons of mass destruction. The Disciples were threatening to launch them at Jerusalem, Mecca, Vatican City, Bodhgaya, Ise, Pawapuri, Varanasi, and a host of revered religious locations across the world.

Various countries accused each other of selling them the weapons and using them as pawns for ulterior motives. Tensions grew hot when the Disciples launched a poison gas missile into the North Pole, killing no one but causing grave ecological damage. The economical damage to the arctic fisheries was staggering, and no one could tell what kind of secondary causes would have yet to occur. Things escalated from there, as the more established religions on Earth began to call for action. Before long, riots were erupting all over Europe; with citizens demanding that their countries attack.

And attack they did. The little island was detonated into heaps of sand and ash. The Disciples responded by blowing up the Eiffel Tower and then launching a missile into the Arch of Titus a few days later from somewhere in the Pacific. When a nuclear bomb landed on Iceland, a massive war had erupted in Europe, each country blaming the other. Mass chaos had ensued. Spain invaded France, claiming that they were incompetent and unable to fight the mysterious force. France responded by blockading goods to Spain from the UK, which trashed Britain's economy. And so on and so on; until there were thousands and millions dying left and right, armies slaughtering each other, calling each other Kathurian sympathizers. The shinigami had been up to their eyeballs over there; konso-ing fifty-to-a-hundred more times than usual per day, and slaying hollows whereever they could. The idea that it had all started because of some wacko religion was particularly distasteful.

Kiyone marched up the stairs, pausing before she opened the doors. "And for the record, _'my'_ God is a 'She'."

Enjoji rolled his eyes. He may have been free from Ise Fukutaicho, but he still reported to a feminist. "I'll touch base with the checkpoint and then wait out here."

Kiyone acknowledged him and then breathed deeply, trying to push her irritation out before she opened the doors to the unaffiliated temple in a slow, reverent fashion. The small building in the northern Rukongai was well maintained, but it was relatively empty; a bit of a surprise on Festere. A single pew of druids, up in the front, prayed silently. Kiyone sat down on a bench in the back of the shrine, bowed her head in solemn thought, and prayed to Fate that humanity would stop destroying itself.

-:-

_Elsewhere_

She was quieter than usual. Normally, I could hear her turning the pages of her book, but she was being extra quiet today for some reason.

"Are you hungry or thirsty?"

"No."

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No."

"Do you want a hug? A kiss?"

"No."

"Are you happy here?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to fix something today?"

"No."

"Would you like me to stay?"

"No."

"Do you want me to come tomorrow?"

"No."

My heart hurt a bit, but it was par for the course. "Okay," I said softly, and gave her some space.

* * *

_**Next chapter:** Kuchiki Hisako and others. I know it's early on in the story and it's just getting started, but **reviews, please! **Thank you! -njx_


	5. Blood From a Stone, But The Wrong Kind

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. Fading into the background's fanfic references are used with permission.

* * *

_"So I've got a sword. Yeah, so what? I'll never be a shinigami. Fireworks are much more fun."_  
_~Shiba Tancho, of the infamous Shiba Triplets; who is, shall we say, 'not widely known for his intelligence'_

* * *

_Three months ago_

Sasakibe Chojiro walked the streets of London. It was his favorite place in the whole wide world - no, in the whole wide universe.

His gigai was a bit snug, but it would do. It was a dangerous, dangerous time to be in Britain these days; London in particular. The threat of chemical weapons landing on Big Ben was a very likely possibility. As it was, bomber jets patrolled the skies night and day.

Not that he cared. He was here for the tea and crumpets, shepherd's pie with warm beer, and of course, the good old English whores. The ones who still dressed up in those fancy Victorian costumes and gave you your money's worth ten times over.

Walking into his favorite old-style brothel, The Ladies of London Square, Sasakibe was greeted by the proprietor. She helped him pick out a fabulous escort in a most deliciously appealing gown, and he headed upstairs to make use of his well-needed vacation.

-:-

_Back to the present_

"Tou-sama!"

Byakuya smiled as Hisako came charging into his knees, with her caretaker Kanaino close behind. The little tike was so endearing that it never ceased to amaze him that she was his. He kissed his daughter and gave her a hug, embracing her closely for a moment. Her resemblance to his late wife Hisana and sister Rukia was near perfect, save for the fact that she lacked the errant bangs her elders had. It was a particularly curious fact given that Hisako had no blood relation to either Rukia or Hisana. The dark hair was understandable, because Byakuya and Kuukaku both had black hair - but she even had Hisana's eyes. Considering that Kuukaku's eyes were green and Byakuya's were gray, it was a complete mystery as to how she got them. "Where is your mother?"

"Kaa-sama is in the dining room with Ganju-ojisama and Ina-obasama," the seven-year old said. She was growing particularly quickly, and her diction and speech were already perfect despite being the comparative age of a real-world two-year-old. She was astonishingly smart, and already Byakuya was considering getting her some lessons to start learning her letters and numbers in addition to the poetry readings and painting sessions she was already being taught. Now if only she could get out of diapers, Byakuya thought.

"Ganju-san is here?" he asked.

"Hai, Tou-sama!" Hisako said cheerily. "With the triplets!"

"Well then, we must be good hosts and go and greet them."

"Can I pour the tea?"

"What did your mother say?"

"She says I am not old enough," the indigo-eyed child pouted.

"Well then it is best you listen to her advice," Byakuya chided.

"Okay," she sighed. Byakuya immediately recognized it as his own, and made a mental note to try and watch his mannerisms a bit more carefully.

They sat down at the table just as the servants were bringing out dinner. "Byakuyan-san!" Kuukaku greeted him with a smile, and he leaned over to greet her with a small kiss.

Ganju nodded in greeting. His wife Ina was busy trying to nurse two children at once, but smiled to say hello. Byakuya still wondered how such a nice, humble, and generally pleasant woman could have been an Omaeda. She was the complete opposite of her lieutenant cousin, Marechiyo.

Kuukaku had forced Ganju to settle down after she had married, noting that although she was still Head of House, it was Ganju's responsibility to produce heirs as her own children would be members of the Kuchiki Clan. In the span of less than a year, Ganju had been married off and saddled with triplets; two boys and a girl. That was three years ago, and it had done him some good, Byakuya thought.

Byakuya helped Hisako settle into a cushion with a napkin and bib. He then sat down next to her, helping cut up her food into manageable, toddler-compatible chunks. Despite her extreme intelligence, whenever it came to dining it was hard to escape the reality that she was still just a little squirt. Hisako was not exactly the neatest eater quite yet. (Kuukaku took all the blame for that one.) "Tell me about your day," he asked her.

"_After _you finish chewing," Kuukaku reminded her.

The little child finished mashing the tempura and rice in her mouth, swallowed and smacked her lips. Rice was still stuck to her face every which way imaginable, and Byakuya was surprised that he found it cute. "Kanaino-san took me to play with Zari-chan today!"

"And how is her mother doing?" Kuukaku asked.

"I do not know. Yoruichi-obasama was not there."

Kuukaku stole a furtive glance of annoyance at Byakuya. He knew exactly what it was about. It was his fault that their tike spoke like a stuffy academy professor.

"Tou-sama, how come I do not have purple and yellow hair?" Hisako asked out loud before cramming a couple chunks of squid in her mouth. It wasn't a whiny question, more of a matter of curiousity. Her best friend, Shihoin Zarina, was a bit of a perplexity - through some freak genetic mixup, half of her hair was the deep purple like her mother and the other half was the light blonde of her father Kisuke, rather than the light purple that her baby brothers had. Then again, Urahara Kisuke was her father. It wasn't beyond his code of ethics to have caused such an unusual trait to manifest on purpose. Unlike her brothers, Zarina's coloring was even darker than her mother, too - which made the blond half of her head stand out so much.

Byakuya decided he would be diplomatic. "I'm sure your mother can answer that question."

Kuukaku gave a him a look that said she was totally going to get him back for that one. "Everyone is unique. Some people have dark hair, and some don't."

Hisako thought for a minute. "Can I dye my hair to be like Zari-chan?"

Ganju, who had been rocking his daughter Kanchi to sleep while his wife Ina nursed the boys, nearly spit up his food. Kuukaku wanted to whack him but refrained from her usual violence in front of her daughter. "Where did you get that idea from! ?"

"Tou-sama's fukutaicho dyes her hair purple. Is there a reason that I cannot do the same?"

Kuukaku glared at Byakuya, who sighed. He would have to remind his vice captain to be a bit more discreet. He hesitated, trying to formulate an answer that would satisfy his only child. "Banzo Fukutaicho does it because she wants to have the same hair color her mother did. You already have the same beautiful black hair your mother has." He glanced at his wife, who gave him a not-so-subtle smile of approval.

Hisako seemed to accept it and move on randomly. "And like Rukia-obasama's hair, too!"

Byakuya smiled. The mind of a little child is always so interesting to follow. "Yes, her too."

Hisako chewed on a piece of sushi, appearing contemplative. "When Rukia-obasama and Ichigo-ojisama have a baby, do you think it will have orange or black hair, or both?"

Kuukaku interjected, not wanting to let Byakuya screw up the answer to this question. "I don't know, Hisako-chan. But hopefully we'll find out soon."

The little girl, whose face was a complete mess of utter, sloppy cuteness, thought for a moment. "What if the baby's hair is blue?"

Everybody except Byakuya laughed, although a smile did come to his face. "I'm positive," Kuukaku answered, "that they would be thrilled to have a baby with blue hair."

-:-

Karin sat at the desk in her dorm room, unable to focus. The pages in her guide book were now just a jumble of letters, and she struggled to force herself to study. She had been doing so much studying lately that it was just liquifying her brain.

Exhausted, she closed her guide about how to best navigate the graduate school entrance exams and her textbook on neurobiology. Her roommate, an American girl named Susan who had come to study Japanese and Art in hopes of becoming a mangaka, was already out partying; something which Karin had no patience for.

Lonely and a bit moody, Karin reached for the photograph on her desk. It was taken nearly eight years ago at a carnival in Karakura, back when she was only fourteen. Those were the simple days, she thought. She remembered that day easily; it was one of the best days of her life. Toshiro had been with her in a gigai, and they had celebrated her completion of elementary school and her acceptance into one of the better high schools in the greater Tokyo area.

Back then, she was young and had few worries or concerns. She remembered Toshiro riding the bumper cars with her, eating cotton candy and ice pops, enjoying bento boxes together while listening to some local band perform on a stage at the festival. She fondly recalled the ferris wheel, where they had been able to get away from Yuzu and Isshin. She smiled as she remembered how much she had enjoyed a good few solid moments of kissing and caressing there (in ways that would make most parents of a fourteen year-old gag), and then some more tame cuddling while they enjoyed fireworks later that evening.

It was an old picture, and Susan teased her about it relentlessly. Don't you have any more recent pictures of your boyfriend? she would ask. No, I don't; Karin would answer.

Aren't you still seeing him? Susan would ask. Go get some pictures, she would prod.

Maybe one of these days, Karin would reply.

But the truth was that Karin didn't want any other pictures. She loved this one the most.

-:-

Rukia swore, tears coming to her eyes like a flood valve.

Again. _They had failed again._

Stumbling out of the bathroom, she plopped down on the queen-size bed in their real-world apartment, angry, bitter, and depressed.

Ichigo brushed her hair. "I'm sorry," he said. It wasn't any consolation, but it wasn't like anything he could say would help.

Rukia felt the life drain out of her. The awful wash of misery and pain, the suspicion of hopelessness, of yet another lost month, finally confirmed. She swore again, cursing Fate with an awful, tear-stained wail of despair; shrieking, crying, howling.

Ichigo could do nothing, nor say anything. He, too, had lost hope a long time ago, but it still hurt. It could never hurt as bad as it would for her, though.

"Ichigo," she said softly, bitterly, angrily, "am I really a woman?"

He brushed her hair, lay down next to her, putting his arm around her. She didn't respond - he didn't expect her to; she was beyond comfort at the moment - but it was the best he could do. "Of course you are," he whispered reassuringly, the pain of having to enunciate such a statement burning his stomach with a dark pit of emotional torment.

Five years - five long, painful years. They had gotten married ten years ago, and for the past five, they had been trying to conceive a child. It had only taken a couple of months once they started trying, but Rukia's pregnancy wasn't viable, and didn't last past seven weeks. That had been a heart-breaking experience, but they steeled themselves and figured that they would try again.

Since then, though, Rukia hadn't been able to conceive. They had been trying for _five years. _The suffering was excruciating. If she was human, it would have been easy - with a real body, she could just get IVF; but a gigai was incapable of reproduction (something that had been quite handy in the early years of their marriage). In shinigami form, they were nothing but spirit particles; and because most souls entered Soul Society simply by materialization rather than birth, no equivalent procedure had ever been devised in the spirit world. Only nobility cared about genetic bloodlines, and the thought of doing it any other way than the "manner that has been done for thousands of years" was considered shameful.

Rukia didn't give one flying speck of horse crap about the manner it which it happened. All she wanted - all they wanted - was a baby. A child. A family. She would have been more than happy to adopt - hell, she would have adopted years ago; but the Council of Nobility forbid it. Rukia, an adopted noble, was an extreme rarity; and admittedly, part of Rukia never wanted to put her own children through what she had to go through. It was hard enough for Ichigo's nobility to be accepted.

Not that she hadn't gone to both Unohana and Urahara and ask them to run a bazillion tests. They had, and the tests all found nothing concrete. If they couldn't figure out what the problem was, then no one could. Both had told them just to keep trying; that hopefully they would conceive again.

So they tried. _Tirelessly._ These past six months, they had sex _every five hours._ They set alarms in the middle of the night. It was _exhausting_ - for both of them. It drained all the fun out of it. It was a chore. There was no romance, no excitement, no enjoyment to it - just sheer _exhaustion._ The only time they skipped sex was the first five days after Rukia got her period. Hardly a reprieve, considering that all it did was indicate failure.

"Am I being selfish?" she asked, self-doubt invading her. "Is it wrong of me? Am I asking too much? Is it wrong to want a baby?"

"No, no; of course not," her husband reassured her. "It's a basic human need. There's nothing wrong with it."

Rukia's misery washed over her, and she sat up. "I need to kill something," she said. "Are you coming?"

Ichigo shook his head. "I need to rest up."

She nodded. In five days, he was going to need to be ready for action, round-the-clock; and indeed, he would need to be rested if he could do that again for another month.

He kissed her softly. She lingered; crying, sobbing, and then heaving in tears with their lips still joined; sad and mournful and despaired but eternally grateful that he loved her so, so, _sooooo_ much. He never complained, never faltered - no matter how skeptical and hopeless he thought their chances were, he always put on his best face and did what he could to help her get through the day. She had been so hard on him; venting and crying and screaming at him for lack of anyone else or anything to punish. She had been mean and nasty and grumpy and bitchy, nagging him and tearing into him about nonsense just because he was there. She was overly critical, short-tempered, irritable, and depressed, and angry all the time. She punished him for no reason all the time, but he undoubtedly loved her to the ends of the Earth and Beyond, because he stood by her and supported her in a way that was superhuman.

No, not superhuman. _Like a Kurosaki._ Because that's what Kurosakis do. And she was lucky to have him, luckier than any woman in any universe.

"I love you so much, Ichigo. I'm sorry I'm so defective."

He hugged her tightly. Ichigo knew that she would never stop blaming herself for their infertility. Still, he couldn't let that slide without comment. Ichigo knew she said these things just so that he could reject them in an attempt to make her feel better. "Shaddup," he said affectionately. "If you were defective, I'd just buy the replacement parts and fix you up in a jiffy. Now go kill some hollows," he suggested lightly, pecking her lips again. He knew this lame attempt wasn't going to patch her up at all, but it was never easy. At some point, there was simply nothing you could say. He just tried his best. Ichigo had learned long ago that it was better to say something dorky than to say nothing at all.

She stifled her sorrow, wiped her eyes, and nodded. There were no words that could express how hard it was for her to move on at that moment, to pick Sode no Shirayuki up off the little table in their studio apartment, and to leave their apartment and out into the night. No words at all - but she was the head lieutenant of the Gotei 13, and she had a job to do. Duty was something that Rukia stood by, emotionally sound or not.

Ichigo watched tentatively as she shut the door behind her slowly. He looked at his watch. He had forty-three minutes until his residency shift began. He set an alarm and, after slipping back into his body, quickly drifted off to sleep. He might only sleep for sixteen minutes, but every millisecond was like solid gold.

-:-

Ichihime was waiting for him when Renji sat down at the table in the small Sereitei bar. It wasn't a frequently visited joint, as despite the tables, they didn't serve any food. Ichihime had already ordered but didn't seem to be drinking her gin and tonic. Intead, she seemed troubled, and was fidgeting.

Renji knew that this was not going to be a conversation he wanted to hear, but he tried to play it smooth. "Hey, baby, what's on your mind?" Despite trying to sound cool, he knew he ended up looking like a total loser instead.

She didn't say anything, but Ichihime's face tightened a bit. Renji sighed and gestured to a waiter. "Sake with a water chaser."

"Hiriyo, Myishi, or Higurashi?"

Renji hesitated for a moment before responding. "Higurashi."

"Coming right up," the waiter commented.

"How's the 6th doing?" Renji asked offhand, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work - Ichihime just shrugged.

Renji accepted his drink from the returning waiter and took a sip. After glancing around to see that they were left with some privacy, he plunged in head-first. "Out with it," he said gruffly-yet-affectionately.

Ichihime hesitated, gazing down into her drink. "I... I've contacted the Nikayui family."

Renji sighed in disappointment. "Uh-huh," he acknowledged, trying to hold a straight face but failing to withhold the bitter ash in his chest from creeping into his voice. Disappointed with himself, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed again; this time managing to soften his voice. "No more stray dogs for you, huh."

He could see the tear forming in the pained eyes of the Banzo Clan princess, but all she could do was manage a croak. "I'm sorry," she said, failing to keep the anguish hidden from him.

Right then and there, Renji decided he was going to take the high road. He hurt badly, but he suspected this day would come eventually. He could have argued - he could have reminded her that he was a captain of the Gotei 13, a prestigious enough position to merit marrying into the Four Houses without challenging the Council for Nobility. He could have argued that Ichihime wouldn't be happy if she left herself up to an arranged marriage. He could have argued that maybe she even loved him - even maybe just a bit - if she would only find a way to understand what love really meant.

But he didn't. He didn't know why, but Renji just knew that any arguments would be futile. He didn't want to, but he had to swallow his obections and just let her go. Staring down into his glass and choking a bit on his own despair, he nodded. "I... I don't like it, but I understand," he said. "Uh, yeah. Eh, uh, good luck, I guess."

Ichihime began to stifle her tears. "Excuse me," she broke, and ran out of the bar.

Well, at least I can take solace in the fact that this was mutually painful, he thought.

It would have been a great excuse to get drunk, he thought, but for some reason, when he sipped his sake it tasted like sawdust. He sat there for an hour, wallowing in his own misery and fidgeting with his drink the same way Ichihime had been doing when he walked in. After that, he paid the bill and left. If he was gonna drink, he wasn't gonna do it alone.

-:-

"_And then the little bear closed his eyes, and went to sleep. The End."_

"Jii-sama," Komamura Kitsune yawned, "can you read it again?"

Yamamoto Genryusai-Shigekuni, who could normally could not stand children in any way shape or form, looked to the boy's mother for permission. Unohana Retsu nodded, and he melted in the face of the child's request. "Okay, Kitsune-chan, last time," he chuckled softly.

-:-

Renji, Iba, and Kira were all sitting at the bar. Iba was enjoying sake. Abari Renji and Kira Izuru, however, while drinking it, didn't really enjoy anything anymore.

"I can't believe it," Kira moaned, his drunken state exacerbating his morose depression.

"Them's the breaks," Iba commented.

"Why'd Momo-chan dump you?" Renji asked, the sake removing what little tact he tended to have these days.

"I don't know," Kira answered. "She said something about just wanting to be friends from now on."

Iba shook his head. "That's the worst line there is, you know. You can never recover from that."

Kira started bawling into his sake dish, completely drunk beyond belief.

Renji glared at Iba, which was stupid, since it wasn't like Renji was so smooth himself. "Shut it, mama's boy."

"My mother could kick your ass," Iba shot back.

Renji shut up. It was true. Kira's predecessor, Iba Chikane, was not someone you messed with.

_"WHY?" _Kira groaned, completely smashed. A trail of dribble was dripping down his chin. It was pretty pathetic.

"I'm outta here. You guys are depressing me," Iba said.

"Nah, stay," Renji replied, waving him off. "C'mon, Kira, let's go. We're not gonna let our women chop our balls off."

Tetsuzaemon winced at the visual image that comment presented. Izuru could do nothing more than erupt into another moaning, mumbling wimper.

Frustrated, Renji grabbed Kira by the back of his collar and dragged him out the door.

"Hey!" called Iba. "You can't stiff me with the bill! Get back here, you assholes!"

Renji smirked. "Your treat for the men with wounded hearts, remember?"

"What the hell are you talking about? You lying bastard! _Get back here!_"

-:-

Momo was on the couch in the 10th division captain's office, gloomy and sipping her carrot juice. "I feel terrible," she mumbled miserably.

"But you did the right thing," Matsumoto explained. "It's no use dragging things out if you're unhappy."

"Things were so good for so long," Momo began. "But I'm not ready for this kind of serious relationship, Rangiku-san! I'm still two months shy of my 90th birthday! I'm way too young for that kind of commitment!"

Matsumoto put her arm around Momo and patted her on the shoulder. "Of course, dearie. I understand." Not really, but I can't say that out loud.

"And all of a sudden, he's talking about maybe having me stay the night, and I can't do that! I'm just not ready for that sort of thing!"

Rangiku patted her friend on the shoulder, adding a "There, there," to comfort her, while rolling her eyes inside. Talk about commitment-phobic. Hinamori Momo had been dating Kira Izuru for ten freakin' years. Kotetsu Kiyone was the same age as Momo, yet she was already married. _Married!_ Dear kami, was Momo a baby. To be fair, Matsumoto realized that Momo's last sincere emotional attachment had ended with a katana through her stomach, so perhaps it was really deeper than a fear of commitment. Still, this was a bit ridiculous.

The fact that Kira had held out this long had to have made the guy the most patient man in the entire universe. Matsumoto had no proof, but she was pretty sure her captain - who was basically Momo's younger brother - had lost his virginity a long time ago, and he was literally less than half Momo's age. It sounded to Matsumoto like this breakup might help Kira more than it hurt.

-:-

_Elsewhere_

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Okay! Do you want sushi?"

"Yes."

"Onigiri?"

"Yes."

"Sake?"

"No."

"Soda?"

"No."

"Juice?"

"Yes."

"Orange juice?"

"No."

"Grapefruit juice?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to eat with you?"

"Yes."

"Alright, I'll be back in just a minute."

* * *

_Next chapter: Hell in a swamp._


	6. Hellsong

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note: **If you are not familiar with the Handoshi references, I recommend you review Act III of "Saved For You, Kuchiki"._

* * *

_"Her first husband must have asked her to dinner thousands of times before she said yes. So by my reckon, I must be ahead of the game!"  
__~ Argimus Lethicus Haupt, __Colonel of the 10th Handoshi Legion; most widely known for reluctantly devising the Kriggan Method of Inquisition_

* * *

Nanao entered her apartment just as Shuuhei was leaving. He gave her a quick kiss, as if to simultaneously say 'hi' and 'goodbye' all at once.

"You're off to the whorehouse?" Nanao asked, hanging up her blue haori on a hook by the door.

"Yeah," he answered. "Dinner's on the table. Make sure to eat soon, it probably won't be very good cold."

Nanao nodded. "Here, take this," reaching into her pocket and giving him a wad of cash. "Good luck."

Shuuhei shook his head as he stuffed the money into the pocket of his hakama. Nanao was rarely subtle. "Thanks. I'll be home around midnight or so."

"Yep," she smiled, giving him another quick kiss on the cheek. "Hurry up. Make sure to find a good one, now, okay?"

Even though he couldn't keep a smile from cropping up, Shuuhei nodded somberly before he left.

-:-

Nanao finished her shunpo out to the bogs way past the south Rukongai. There was no one around for miles; a reiatsu scan confirmed it but she used a kido locator spell to double-check. Pulling her tanto out of her sleeve, she released her bankai to open up a gate to Hell.

Hajimata was waiting for her. "Chibaniki-shosho," he greeted her. Nanao had given up hope that he would ever be able to call her by this lifetime's name; over nine-and-a-half millenia is enough to ingrain anything permanently.

"Percy," she greeted informally. She knew he generally disliked this abbreviated name, but it was their unofficial signal that she had summoned him on personal business. On official business, she addressed him by his sworn allegiance, 'Cavaliere.'

"I presume you came for the data on our most recent guests?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "Is it ready?"

"Hikifune-dono prepared it," he said, handing it to her. "She's sorry she missed you today."

Nanao frowned. She looked forward to seeing Miyako every week during these little exchanges. "That's too bad. I brought her a picture of Hisako-chan," handing Percival a photo of Miyako's partially-namesaken niece. "Please make sure she gets it."

"As you wish," he answered in his familiar reassuring refrain and cadence.

Nanao took a moment to review the files. "Wait a minute - you got a _four-year-old! ?_ How did _that_ happen?"

Hajimata shrugged. "I wasn't privy to the details. The Great King himself ordered it; but the child was only sent to Purgatory."

Nanao nodded. In order to be sent to an actual Circle, the soul had to be guilty of its crimes. Children younger than ten were very rarely punished in Hell; as they usually can't comprehend the ramifications of their actions. Typically, they are just reincarnated. Occasionally, like other souls who deserve mild punishment, they are locked in Purgatory. There, they are left unharmed and unconscious but are not released back into the Cycle of Souls for a predetermined amount of time. "In the future, I don't need the Purgatory files."

"Has your boyfriend found anything?" Hajimata asked casually, although Nanao could hear the jealousy in his voice.

"No, not yet." Nanao continued perusing through the notes, choosing to ignore his attempt at directing her attention elsewhere. "Nothing, _again._ You would think that you would have a lot more new guests, given the war."

Her cavaliere shrugged. "You would be surprised. The Great King has been merciful. It is a time of great stress for most people; and they don't always behave rationally. There is much deception in the air; people deserve the benefit of the doubt. So says The Great King, I do not pretend to understand his ways."

Nanao sighed. She was very disappointed in Earth. Since Nanao had learned of her true identity ten years ago, she had been a firm believer in the divinity of Fate, although she wasn't a member of a particular faith. Although many shinigami were atheists, most shinigami were deists of some sort that believed in a singular higher power.

Formalized religion in Soul Society was very new - only the past five years or so - but the basic tenets were the same: some Omnipotent Being sends souls from one realm to another, based on their judgement. If they were truly evil, they were sent to Hell. If they didn't quite deserve that, then they were reincarnated into a hard life of poverty or illness. The major followings all ascribed to the same general beliefs, and while they all contended for followers, there was generally little animosity between them. But Earth was another story. Instead of finding common ground, they were slaughtering each other over nonsense.

Nanao handed the files back to her colonel. "I guess it's good that you're here instead of Miyako-dono."

"Why is that?" Hajimata asked, puzzled. Although he was always glad to see his brigadier general (who as per the the Great King's wishes still held the position, despite not living in Hell), Percival knew that Chibaniki-shosho always liked to see Hikifune-dono.

"It gives me a chance to ask how she's doing," she explained. "I've been seeing her every week like this long before I started combing the files."

Hajimata gave a nearly imperceptible shift of his weight in response. "You are worried about our chief sergeant? Hikifune-dono is among the most capable women I have ever met; second only to you. She is a superb officer."

Nanao sighed, shaking her head. Percival had been in Hell for far too long. "I'm not worried about her competency. I'm worried about _her_."

Hajimata's face fell slightly, but he gave no verbal response.

"I'm sure that her sister, Kirio-san, wants to see her," she explained. "I've been debating whether or not to let Rukia-san see her again. Papa asks me when I'll let him have a drink with his niece. I'm sure Shiba Taicho would be thrilled to know she could talk to her sister-in-law once more. I'm not ready to let everybody in on the secret, but some day will come that I'll have to put safety over secrecy and use bankai in the presence of others. I don't want Miyako-dono to get lost in the anguish of Hell and not be able to stand proud when she sees her friends and relatives."

He sighed. "She still cries at night, at the end of the day."

Nanao was a bit startled by that. "_Still?_ It's been twenty-five years - are you _serious?_"

"Hai, Shosho-sama. Hikifune-dono is a steadfast servant of Hell, but the toll of handing out excruciating punishments to even the most wicked of souls still is a heavy burden to carry. Those of us with more iron stomachs suffer in peace, but we both know that The Great King of Hell does not choose his servants based on our indifference to torture. He could not do with sinners lashing sinners; and not everyone can die like you, young and innocent and free of guilt and shame - young enough to be morally superior yet capable of adapting to the demands of our position. You know as well as I that the righteous are rarely callous, but despite this, I understand your doubt. Sergeant Hikifune is no stranger to the duties of the military. One would expect she would be steeled by now, considering her exceptional talents. Yet for a soldier of her caliber, she's unusually delicate inside."

Nanao breathed a sigh of relief. Her Handoshi philosophy rebuked her for wishing that one of her soldiers would remain soft, but Nanao's humanity was at peace. Tranquility calmed her nerves knowing that her close friend was still the precious soul she always was. "Sounds like she needs a vacation," she joked halfheartedly.

Hajimata gave a meek smile. "Don't we all."

Silence hung in the air for a while as they both contemplated the burdens they beared. The bog had a breeze that smelled of sulphur and rotting cedar; but it wasn't entirely unpleasant even if it was strong.

Nanao eventually spoke first. "Well, then. Another miss. We'll try again next week."

"I'm sure Hikifune-dono will be looking forward to it."

Nanao paused. "Why couldn't she make it this week?"

Percival smirked. "Colonel Haupt of the 10th Legion invited her to dinner."

An incredulous smile of joy burst onto Nanao's face. "And she accepted? Good for her!"

"In her words, _'he is a bit of a poser but I suppose the change of scenery is worth it'_, or something of that nature."

Nanao laughed, a deep hearty rumble escaping into the otherwise quiet, petey air. "That's _hilarious._ It's a shame you didn't beat Haupt to it," she teased, knowing full well that Percival still held a candle for her. So much so that he would probably remain celibate for the remainder of his Handoshi service.

He gave her a dark look of disapproval for her mockery, but she knew he didn't mean it seriously. "Unless there's anything else, Shosho-sama, I should be going."

"Wait, Percival," she said, surprising him. "Please, play the cello for me. Just a bit."

He shook his head, but knew he couldn't refuse. He made an oath. "You are mercilessly taking advantage of me, Saya-dono."

She laughed. "I know, but it's been so long since I've heard you."

"Very well," Hajimata sighed, and went back through the gate to fetch his cello. Nanao sat quietly for an hour or so, and enjoyed his incredible talent. It wasn't opera, but his Bach was the next best thing; and she sang along, her alto voice blending well with the warm melodies of his string instrument. The music and song hung in the thick night air, and for a few moments, Nanao remembered some of the more pleasant moments she had in Hell that had been few and far between.

But she was still happy to be alive.

-:-

_Elsewhere_

Of course, there she was, reading a book like she always was when I entered. She looked up from it this time, though, which was nice. She had such adorable features - big, brown eyes; a round, cherubic face, an innocence that made me smile. She was wearing glasses today. I was mildly disappointed, but it could never be about me, so I let it out of my mind. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?" I asked.

"No."

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No."

"Would you like a hug?"

"No."

"A kiss?"

"No."

"Are you happy here?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to fix something today?"

"No."

"Would you like me to stay?"

"Yes."

I smiled and sat down on her bed. She went back to reading. I knew that she didn't want me to ask any more questions, so I let her read in peace.

It had taken a long time to understand that sometimes, we just needed each other close by.

* * *

_I know, I know; a terribly short chapter. Sorry, but the next one will be out soon, anyway. **Next chapter:** The new 12th division lieutenant._


	7. Kisses and Introductions

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach. Dilbert is the property of Scott Adams.

_**Translator's note: **'Oyasemi' means 'Good evening' or 'Good night'. 'Ue-sama' is a colloquial term used to respectfully address a customer._

* * *

_"Let people judge you by your deeds rather than your origins. That is the philosophy by which you will succeed, just like your mother and your father before you."  
~ Unohana Retsu, to her son, Komamura Kitsune_

* * *

Hisagi Shuuhei glanced left and right, hoping, begging, and praying to Fate that no one would see him before he walked into Lady Merrangue's House of Belladonnas, a well-established whorehouse in the southern Rukongai. The brothel was in the 17th district, close enough to Sereitei that it was accessible but not so close that it came under scrutiny. It was a place he knew well.

"_Oyasemi, Ue-sama,_" the receptionist noted. Hisagi had never seen her before, so she must be new.

Hisagi shook his head and brandished his arm badge. "Here on official business."

"Of course you are," the receptionist answered suggestively. "And just exactly _who_ is your business for this evening?"

Hisagi ignored her. It wasn't like he hadn't heard this before. "I need to speak with Lady Merrangue," he indicated, very clearly implying he would not be doing more than speaking.

The receptionist gave him a suspicious look, but eyed his bulging muscles and what appeared to be quite a heft in his _*ahem*_ and decided that the boss had good taste. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Tell her that the pelican is here."

"The 'pelican'?"

Shuuhei gave her a look that clarified he wasn't interested in explaining. "Yes. _The pelican._"

The receptionist shrugged and went into a back office. Moments later, a five-hundred pound woman came lumbering out from behind the scarlet sheets that separated the room. Her completely overdone makeup made her look like a giant clown-colored beachball. "Ah, Shuuhei! Long time no see!"

"Hey, Ma," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Brought you something from Nan-chan," handing her a wad of cash.

Hisagi Merongaka, better known to Shuuhei as Mom, had owned and run this whorehouse for nearly two centuries. Shuhei's biological mother had been one of her many ladies that had come and gone over the years, but there was no doubt that Merongaka was Mom. She had been the one to take care of him as a kid, putting up with his adventurous antics and giving him food, clothing, and a place to sleep at night.

Say what you want about prostitutes, she had been a devoted mother. Even after he had failed the entrance exam twice, she insisted that Shuuhei enroll in Shinou Academy rather than get wrapped up in Yakuza or some other Rukongai gang. _You're too smart to let your future be captured by a rust that can't be scrubbed away,_ she would mind him. It hadn't taken much convincing the first time he applied - Shuuhei had once seen the most amazing shinigami when he was a kid, and that was all he had ever dreamed of. After failing twice, though, he would have called it quits - but Ma wouldn't have it. She had taught him to read as a kid, but now she was going to get him into the Academy if it cost her every last ounce of patience she had.

She made him write essays and polemics, teaching him the finer arts of debate and negotiation. Ma forced him to learn how to express thoughts and arguments on paper in a structured, cohesive fashion. She made him do the accounting for the House of Belladonnas, so that he would learn his numbers. When he got the basics down, she taught him to do the forecasting and profit planning. By the time Hisagi Shuuhei had applied to Shinou Academy for the third time, he was a surprisingly well-educated teenager. He passed the test with flying colors and earned a place in the top class. Had it not been for his mom, Hisagi Shuuhei might not have an artificial eye, but he would never be in a position to achieve his dreams. He still hadn't quite made captain yet like that childhood idol of his, Muguruma Kensei, but he was working on it. It was in his grasp - all thanks to Ma. Pimpette or not, she did what any other mother would do for her kid.

Shuuhei and his mom had a great relationship. Ma was proud of his success and always complimented him on it: _I may have got you in, but the rest you did yourself,_ she would always say. And Ma liked Nanao. Merongaka tried to convince her to let Shuhei propose, but Nanao refused. Nanao didn't do marriage; she thought it was a sexist enslavement of women to some male concept of ownership. Hisagi was honestly worried at first that she was a bit commitment-phobic, but they had been living together happily for eight years now; and Nanao's father, Kyoraku Taicho, already called them an old married couple. Much to Nanao's chagrin, of course.

So instead, Shuuhei just counted his blessings. He let Nanao be Nanao. She kept too many secrets for her own good - from him, from her closest friends Rukia and Isane, and probably from her father, too. Still, she never kept anything from him that seemed terribly important. On top of everything, Kazeshini was crazy about Saya; so he just figured that he would just let life continue to be good rather than stir up trouble.

Hisagi Merongaka frowned, holding up her hands and refusing the money. "The pelican will have to go home empty. Business has been slow, and I got nothing for her. I know I said I was gonna try to do something for you, but I couldn't scrounge up anything. Save the cash for when I have a need to grease some wheels."

"_Nothing?_ Not even a sucker? A bait, a hook, a chance? A customer you can convince?"

She sighed. "It's bad, Shuuhei. These religious folks have come in to this part of town, and all of a sudden, business shut down to a crawl. I get a few from inside the walls, you know, but for the most part, they play it careful. The only fellas I could have roped in were not gonna give ya what you're looking for."

Shuuhei gave her a look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, s'like this. Some tattooed pineapple-head who looks like he doused his hair in tomato sauce brings in this mopey blond guy and says he an' old Doom-and-Gloom need a pair of nice ladies to take their minds off things. I took one look at both of 'em and either of them would give you something traceable. I know you don't want that."

Shuuhei closed his eyes in a mortified grimace. That was way more information than he wanted to know. I should not have asked. _Awwwkkkwwwaaarrrddd._

"What? Did I say something?"

"No, Ma, just forget it," Shuhei shuddered. "Sounds like the industry is in a downturn," he said, knowing full well that prostitution was a business with its own economy, just like anything else.

"You have no idea, Shu-dear. Hoochie-Coochie-san went out of business last month, can you believe it?"

"No way! _Hoochie-Coochie_ pulled the plug?"

"I know, shocking, ain't it? She's been in business for over _two thousand years!_ She's probably got secrets on more shinigami than anyone I'll ever know," she chuckled.

Shuuhei shook his head. The times were changing. "Look, Ma, I'd love to stay and chat some more, but I promised Nan-chan I'd be home by midnight. You have any other leads?"

"Well, I put out word to Cassandra's, Queen of Geishas, and Kimmy Kitty. I even spoke with Hoochie-Coochie-san directly. They'll all be more than happy to help you out - hell, you'd be doing them a favor - but so far, they're scroungin' out as much as we are. The only other option is ta go diggin' around in Zaraki country for random whores, but methinks that's not such a good idea."

Hisagi agreed. "Yeah, that's not wise." Streetwalkers would stab you in the back for a coin, even if the sex was worth three times as much. You couldn't hope to work out a deal with them.

"Well, sorry I don't got nothin' for ya. You up for some tea?"

Shuuhei debated it for a moment, but ultimately declined. "Nah, thanks, though. I really should be getting back." Any later and the shinigami clientele start sneaking around, and the last thing he wanted was a misunderstanding.

"Thanks for stopping by, Shu-dear. If things change, you'll be the first to know. I promise."

He gave her another kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Ma. I love you. See you soon."

"Scram, go on," his mother called as he headed to the door. "Go home and give that nice girl of yours a good long fuck!"

For most people, hearing such a thing from their mother would have been mortifying. However, considering her profession and Shuuhei's upbringing, it was clearly a great term of endearment; and he got a good hearty chuckle out of it. It may not have been the typical accolade, but Shuuhei was really glad that Ma approved of Nan-chan.

-:-

"Anything?" Nanao asked as she let him in.

"No luck," he answered.

Nanao sighed. "How's your mom doing?"

"Alright, I guess. She gave me a message for you, though," he smirked.

Nanao couldn't resist the grin from forming on her lips. Hisagi Merongaka's messages usually lasted all night long. "I have to get up for work tomorrow, Shuuhei."

"Yeah, yeah, so do I," he shrugged with a smile. "You don't care."

"Actually, no I don't," Nanao laughed, and led him off to bed. It was already late and they weren't going to get a full night's sleep anyway; so she might as well take advantage.

-:-

Rantao Kiku was very nervous. She liked quiet places with lots of computers. In front of a computer, nothing could restrain her confidence. She was king of the road on the information superhighway, so-to-speak. Yes, it was such a dorky cliche that it made Dilbert look like Denzel Washington, but hey, dorkage was her specialty.

But right now, she was in the empty office of the 13th division vice captain, waiting for the Head Lieutenant to arrive. She had already been waiting for ten minutes, and Rantao was so jittery that she worried she was going to upchuck her breakfast.

Get a grip, Kiku thought. I'm a lieutenant now, not some low-woman-on-the-totem-pole 14th seat anymore. Officially, we are equals.

Ah, who am I kidding? she thought nervously. She was about to meet with a _Kuchiki._ The last time she was in Soul Society one-hundred-and-forty-plus years ago, Kuchiki Ginrei had been the 6th division captain; and his son Sojun had been the vice captain. They were both regal men who were revered and respected dignitaries. If lowly common-stock Rantao had ever spoken to either of them, it would have been considered a grave offense. Now, Sojun's son Byakuya was the 6th division captain; and although she had never had the opportunity to learn much about him in person, she had already heard and seen enough to understand him perfectly. He was even more unreachable and aloof than his father and grandfather had been, and from what she had heard about his prodigious shinigami talents, it was only logical. He was clearly a cut above the rest.

Rantao wasn't sure that meeting with his sister Rukia would be any easier. Kiku had yet to meet the extremely well-respected Head Lieutenant. Kuchiki Rukia spent a lot of time on Earth trying to coordinate her division's efforts in Europe, as well as deal with a small, spiritually saturated area near Tokyo that attracted a disproportionate amount of hollows and other oddities.

Her musings were interrupted when a woman nearly a foot shorter than she charged into the office with a look of supreme annoyance. The woman who was so small that she could have even been legally classified as handicapped under American law. Regardless, she was unmistakably, undeniably a Kuchiki. She had the dark hair and scarf to prove it, and the commanding, austere stare that could make you feel like your bones were smoldering.

"Kuchiki Fukutaicho-dono," Rantao bowed nervously.

Rukia spotted the 12th division lieutenant's badge sewn onto the left breast of the woman's white lab coat, and immediately thought of the last one, which she had buried just outside the pavillion. It darkened her mood even further. "And whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?" she said flatly, too pissed off about losing another month to care whether or not she sounded cordial.

Rantao fidgeted nervously. "I am the new 12th division vice captain, Rantao Kiku," she said anxiously. "Urahara Taicho asked me to come and ask you about how the new hollow detection devices were working in the field."

_Unbelievable_, Rukia thought. Urahara hadn't given her any new hollow detection equipment in years. More likely, this was his manipulative attempt to get Rantao out of his hair for some reason. What a jerk. She decided to play hardball. "You can tell him that his new devices are terrible, and that they constantly malfunction. Inform him that this includes randomly exploding," she deadpanned, hoping that the message to Urahara would come across clearly. The last thing Rukia needed was to babysit someone who appeared to be a century older than her because Urahara was too lame to do it himself.

Kiku sweated like a hog seeing the farmer take out his hatchet. "Uh, I'll tell him," she squeaked. "My deepest apologies, Fukutaicho-dono."

"Unnecessary," Rukia said unconvincingly. She had no patience for Urahara's antics today. If he felt a need to give his vice captain a hazing, he could do it elsewhere. "Is there anything else?"

"N-n-no, Fukutaicho-dono. I just wanted to say that I'm very honored to meet Kuchiki Sojun's daughter. I'm sure he would be proud of your acclaim."

Kiku did everything she could not to visibly cower as the miniature lieutenant's icy stare began to carve holes in her eyeballs.

Rukia finally cut her deathly gaze and sat down to start on paperwork that she had no interest in doing. "I'm sure. Anyway, welcome to the Gotei 13 leadership," she said, trying to be nice but it it was unable to come out in any way other than dismissive.

"Th-thank you, Fukutaicho-dono," Rantao eeked out, and then decided it would be best to make a quick exit.

-:-

Yamada Hanatarou, 4th seat of the 4th division, was very nervous. He had no idea why he was nervous. He really shouldn't be nervous. No; he had no reason to be nervous. So he shouldn't be nervous at all.

Lying next to him, his most amazing angel, Kotetsu Isane, was waking up slowly, stirring and stretching in the descending evening sun. Her lithe curvature was splendid, and he could not ever understand what the silver-haired beauty saw in him. She reached for his arm and pulled it around her, hugging it close to her breast as she savored his warmth for a few moments; content with his company. They had the night shift together this week, so both were waking up for the first time all day.

Hanataro waited a few moments, enjoying the feel of her pale skin, the subtle scent of her lavender shampoo, and the tactile delight of his fingers over her form. She then kissed his arm and began to get out of bed, clutching the sheet over her to hide her chest from the sun but still giving him the opportunity to kiss the back of her shoulders to get her attention.

"Isane," he whispered.

"Yesss?" she yawned happily.

Her question was answered when his hand came around her shoulder to hold a small platinum ring in front of her chin. "Marry me," Hanataro said, his voice filled with his trademark anxiety.

Isane gasped, smiled, turned around and kissed him, falling on top of him and enveloping him with all of her silky, luscious tenderness. In between the kisses, Isane whispered and moaned with tears streaming down her face, _"Yes, yes, yes, yes..."_

-:-

_Elsewhere_

I walked into the small room. If I hadn't seen it every day for the past three years, I would have been awed by the sheer quantity of books that lined the walls. As usual, she was sitting in her chair, underneath the singular, tiny window that provided the most minimal amount of sunshine. No different than any other day, a book was perched in her lap, and she didn't look up from reading it. I noticed that she wasn't wearing glasses today.

Nobody but me would be able to deduce something from this, but I knew her better than anyone. I was polite and started with the formalities. "Are you hungry?"

She didn't look up from her book when she answered in her usual, flat voice. "No."

"Thirsty?"

"No," she answered again, her emotionless voice soft and quiet.

"Are you lonely?"

"No."

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No."

I expected as much. "Would you like a hug?"

This time, she at least turned her face to me. "No."

"A kiss?"

She stood up and I approached carefully. At an even five feet, she was a full head shorter than I, and if not for her mostly gray hair, she could have easily been mistaken for a fifteen-year old. The sailor fuku and dark grey cardigan she frequently wore made it easy to miss that she was eight hundred years old. Bending down, I pressed my lips to hers. Unlike most times, though, she parted her lips today; and I tasted her sweet breath and felt the tip of her teeth with my tongue. The kiss held for what seemed like an eternity, and I had to restrain myself from reaching my arms around her thin, petite frame. As normal, I waited until she pulled away; as that was always one of the few things she communicated to me.

Her lips drew away from mine, and she paused to breathe quietly on my mouth for a moment before returning to her chair and resuming her book.

I did everything I could not to sigh. It saddened me that this was the most intimate way we had to communicate.

"Are you happy here?"

"Yes," she said, her voice unchanged from before. It was days like today that I wish I could understand her answer.

"Would you like to fix something today?"

"No."

"Would you like me to stay?"

"No."

I was admittedly disappointed by that, but I knew she preferred to be alone most of the time. "Alright. Do you want me to come tomorrow?" Please say yes.

"Yes."

I smiled - not that she would have noticed with her nose in a book - but I couldn't help myself. I closed the door behind me, deciding that it would be easier to meet with Q sooner rather than later.

* * *

_Sorry for the short chapter, but you know that they come out quickly. **Next chapter:** Family dinner! Turducken - yum!_


	8. Happily Dysfunctional

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own Bleach.

**_Author's note: _**_This chapter contains numerous references to my previous works. And __yes, I know my romanization of Ukitake's personal name is nontraditional. I do it that way for consistency with my other pieces. Forgive me._

**_Translator's note:_**_ The prefix 'moto' means former, or ex-, e.g. 'mototaicho' would be 'former captain' or '__ex-captain'._

_**Special thanks** to Fading into the background for her help with the flow of this chapter._

* * *

_"Repeat after me: **Fu**-**ku**-**tai**-**cho**."  
~Hitsugaya Makahiro, nearly two centuries from now_

* * *

Nanao sighed. "Kiyone-san, I can't reach the garlic salt. Can you get it down for me?"

"Sure," she replied, grabbing it off the top shelf and passing it to her predecessor.

"Thanks," Nanao answered as she seasoned the mashed potatoes.

"No, thank _you_, Nanao-san," Kiyone chirped. "We're all excited for dinner."

"Thanks for letting me throw dinner here. Shuuhei's room in the barracks isn't exactly a good place to host people for a nice meal, and god only knows what Papa's apartment looks like."

"Ugh, don't get me started. The last time I had to drag Taicho's drunk ass out of bed, I had to wade through a sea of filthy clothes."

Nanao giggled as she craned her neck to give Kiyone an incredulous look. "Are you serious? You braved into Papa's dungeon?" She then cricked her neck. "I swear, do you Kotetsus _ever_ stop growing? I can't even look you in the eye anymore without needing to visit a chiropractor."

Kiyone rolled her eyes. "Isane-neechan finally stopped a couple of years ago. Well, we think, anyway. She's betting I'm not going to stop for another decade and a half."

"Kami help me if you hit 7'3" like your sister," Nanao grunted. "I'll have to buy a pair of stilts."

Kiyone chuckled as she finished taking down the fine china and crystal glasses. She and her husband had offered to host Nanao's dinner celebration for Shunsui's recent girlfriend, Rantao Kiku, who had just been promoted to vice captain of the 12th division under Urahara Kisuke. The Kyoraku estate was too noisy for a quiet, formal dinner; so Jushiro had suggested to bring the meal here. Between Jushiro and Shunsui's long-lasting friendship and the fact that Kiyone was Shunsui's vice captain, they were practically like family now anyway. The only family members who were missing were Shuuhei and Rukia. Shuuhei was supposed to come, but had other priorities that came up last minute. As for her sister, Nanao knew Rukia couldn't make time for these sorts of pleasantries.

"So... what do you think of Rantao-san?"

"What do you mean?" Nanao asked, tasting the mashed potatoes. Hmm. Needs more rosemary.

"Taicho getting serious with a woman? Seems a bit... odd for him, don't you think?"

Nanao rolled her eyes with a shrug. "He chased me for years."

"Uh, yeah, but that was _weird._ I mean, he's, uh... your-"

"Dad," Nanao cut her off. "I know, but it wasn't always so clear for a while. It's a bit weird to think about it now, but he wasn't always Papa. I mean, he was, I guess; but neither of us wanted to admit it."

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

Nanao burst out laughing. "Who in the world would want to admit that Kyoraku Shunsui is their father?"

"Touche," Kiyone noted, nearly dropping the silverware she had been gathering as she erupted into spastic laughter. After calming her giggles, she began to set the dishes and other items on a cart to take out to the dining room. "Still, you have to admit you have some opinion on the subject. I mean, what if they get married? Wouldn't it be weird to have a stepmom?"

Nanao hesitated as she ground and then mixed in the extra rosemary into the bowl. Nanao reminded herself that at heart, Kiyone was still only ninety years old - still quite young and naive about so many things. "Well, first of all, I don't think Papa is even capable of getting married. The very word probably terrifies him. That being said, I guess I'm relieved that he's seeing someone who's not younger than I am."

"Have you met Rantao-san before?"

"Not really," Nanao admitted. "She was a division 12 researcher deployed in the real world for over a century. Rantao-san only came back to Soul Society recently, even though she was a seated officer. But Matsumoto says she seems nice. Supposedly the quiet, gentle type."

"Well, she's got the librarian look for sure. Everyone knows Taicho's taste in ladies with _glasses._"

Nanao flung a bare rosemary twig at Kiyone. "Behave, Kiyone-chan," Nanao teased with a smile, knowing that the -chan suffix would annoy her.

Kiyone laughed and went to set the table. Nanao checked on the turducken - it smelled divine - and started to season the vegetables for roasting. Rantao-san had been stationed in the United States and had commented that she enjoyed the food there, so Nanao had gone out of her way to prepare some classic American dishes for her. Papa liked her cooking regardless of what she made, and the Ukitakes were eager to try something new. Nanao hoped things would come out well. She had gotten the recipes from Rukia, who had asked her sister Yuzu for them; so Nanao was pretty sure dinner was going to be delicious.

Nanao was making a mental note to set some food aside for Rukia as a little thank-you package. She had already cleared a section of the refrigerator to pack up some food for Shuuhei, so she was pretty sure she wouldn't forget. Nanao had really wanted him to come, but they _finally_ had a lead and Nanao didn't want to waste it. Hisagi couldn't afford to not go out this evening, even if it amounted to nothing.

Kiyone came back in to the kitchen and started looking through the wine rack for something that she knew Shunsui wouldn't drink but everyone else would enjoy - not an easy task. "So, seriously Nanao-san, what's your plan here?"

Nanao gave her a puzzled look as she sprinkled olive oil over the tray of veggies. "Huh?"

"Well, I mean, does Rantao-san know what she's getting into here? Taicho can be a handful. Don't you think she deserves fair warning?"

"Eh, she's going to have to deal with Urahara-san every day now. One more eccentric goof in her life is just going to give her some practice."

At that moment, the doorbell rang. "Hup, look's like it's showtime," Kiyone smiled, adjusting the ribbon in her hair, and went to answer the door.

Nanao took a deep breath. _Dear Kami, please let me survive this evening with a minimum amount of embarrassment._

-:-

Sensing that everyone else was waiting for someone else to start the conversation, Jushiro decided to break the ice. "So, Rantao-san, welcome to the ranks of the vice captains!"

"Thank you, Ukitake Taicho," Rantao smiled politely, bowing her head demurely. She was a very unimposing woman who wore a lab coat over her standard-issue shinigami uniform. Her zanpakutou, which appeared to be a simple, modest katana, was hung on the rack in the dining room with the rest.

"Please, call me Jushiro. We're among friends here."

Rantao nodded politely but didn't say much else.

Kiyone tried to keep the conversation going. "How is it working with Urahara Taicho?"

Rantao paused to dab her mouth with her napkin. "I just started working for him directly, so I don't really have a basis for a decision yet. He seems nice enough. There's a lot of paperwork, though. Much more than I expected, considering that I came from a research unit," Rantao explained.

"Tch," Nanao teased. "I'm sure it pales in comparison to paperwork in the 8th," she jibed, giving a mock glare at Shunsui.

"Yeah," Kiyone chimed in. "I bet Urahara-san actually _helps_ his vice captain with the paperwork - _right, _Taaaaiiicho?"

"Hey, girls, are you trying to make me look bad?" Shunsui responded in mock offense. "You're going to give Kiku-san the wrong impression."

"Unfortunately, Kyoraku-san, your reputation precedes you," Rantao noted with an amused-yet-gentle smirk.

"Yare yare, Juu, the ladies are beating up on me. Back me up here, ne?"

Ukitake raised his hands as if to say he was staying out of it. "Sorry, Shun. I'm a well-trained man. Never contradict the wife in public," he smiled.

"Copout," Shun pouted.

"Such a good boy," Kiyone said, pinching her husband's cheek affectionately.

"Well, I can see why you can only have family members as vice captains," Rantao teased, playfully bumping into her date.

"Eh, we're just teasing. He's not that bad," Kiyone clarified. "So what were you doing before you were promoted?"

"I was doing research in spirit amplification and soul resonance."

"I don't even know what that means," Kiyone laughed, and everyone joined in.

"You recently authored a book on soul resonance, didn't you?" Nanao asked, scooping some roast carrots onto her plate. " _'Studies on Reiatsu Synchronization and Serialized Spirit Channels'_, if I remember correctly."

"Once a librarian, always a librarian," Shunsui exclaimed with a smile.

"Stop fawning over your daughter," Jushiro teased. "She's a grown woman already. You're embarassing her, Shun."

"Yare yare, you make me sound older than Yama-jii, Juu. I'm not the one with the gray hair."

"His hair is _white_, thank you very much, Taicho," Kiyone mockingly retorted, defending her husband. "And he's not that old!"

"Oi, Kiyone, now you're making me sound ancient," Jushiro rolled his eyes.

"Or like a cradlesnatcher," Nanao teased.

Kiyone punched Nanao's arm in a teasing fashion. "Hey!"

Nanao giggled as she poured herself some more red wine. "Just be careful working for Urahara Taicho, Rantao-san. Rukia-san says he can be a bit... crafty. You may want to get the scoop on him from her."

" '_Rukia_-san'? I assume you are referring to Kuchiki Fukutaicho?" she asked, her tone indicating hesitation.

"Yes," Jushiro confirmed, "my lieutenant."

"I... I don't know," Rantao hedged. "Maybe."

"What's the matter, Rantao-san?" Jushiro asked.

"I... find the Head Lieutenant a bit intimidating, actually," Rantao confessed meekly.

Kiyone burst out laughing. "Yeah, she can be intimidating, alright. But I still love the woman."

Rantao gave her a semi-confused look. Nanao decided to sidestep an explanation, remembering that since Rantao had been in the real world for so long, she likely had no knowledge of Kiyone's very public history with Rukia. Kiyone still considered herself Rukia's most devoted student, and Kiyone's admiration for her former vice captain was widely known. "Rukia-san is just a bit stressed out right now," Nanao clarified. "Her life is a fairly hectic at the moment. She's a lot more approachable than what you've probably seen."

"Shun, you've been so quiet," Jushiro chirped, forcibly shifting topics to something less uncomfortable. "Why don't you tell us how you came to meet Rantao-san?"

"Yes, do tell," Nanao prompted, a gleam of mischief in her eye. "This had better be good."

"It's not a particularly exciting story," Shunsui shrugged, setting down his fork and knife for a moment. "I met her in the library."

Kiyone raised an eyebrow. Although it wasn't supposed to be part of the 8th division's responsibilities, history had sort of evolved in such a way that the vice captain of the 8th was traditionally responsible for the library. Kiyone couldn't remember Kyoraku ever setting foot inside once during her tenure. He certainly _used_ to when Yadomaru-motofukutaicho and Nanao-san were vice captains. The stories of him trying to pinch their ass where they couldn't yelp in protest were legendary. But _now_? The library simply had no appeal to him. "Oh _reeeeeeaaally_, Taiiiicho. The _library_? When was the last time _you_ came into the _library_?"

"When I saw this lovely brunette walk in a few weeks ago and I just had to find out her name," he supplied with a casual grin.

Rantao swatted him affectionately, if 'swatted' was the word that could be used to describe the mild pat she gave him. It definitely wasn't the way Nanao or Kiyone would have swatted their men. "Such a smooth operator," she chuckled, adjusting her oversized, boxy plastic geek glasses. They weren't very flattering, but underneath she was a very attractive woman. She had light brown eyes and chestnut hair; worn in a style that was a cross between Nanao's typical updo and the half-bun that Shiba Miyako was known to wear. Despite her Chinese name, she didn't seem to be ethnically Asian. Her fair skin and straight-but-thick hair implied that she was Caucasian; and although she spoke Japanese perfectly, her inflections were reminiscent of someone who natively spoke French; or maybe Belgian. In any case, Rantao was gifted with a quiet beauty that seemed to be hiding behind an aura of awkward bashfulness.

"And just exactly where was _I_?" Kiyone questioned curiously.

"Taking a gigantic stack of paperwork to the 1st," Kyoraku answered innocently.

Kiyone snorted. "Tch. Remind me to get you a babysitter when I have to step out for too long."

"Ne, Kiyone-chan, you're going to scare away our guest," Shunsui teased back.

Jushiro have him a look.

"Excuse me," Shunsui corrected, "Kiyone-_san_."

Nanao exploded into laughter. Rantao was completely baffled at her response, but Nanao couldn't help herself. "What the hell did you do to him? You got him to use _-san_? Please, tell me your secret!"

"Hey, you only whacked him with a fan. I whacked him with Masticora," Kiyone chuckled.

Jushiro winced. "_Ouch,_ Shun. That had to sting."

Shunsui shuddered, trying to shake the memory out of his head. "Sorry, Nanao-chan, but I don't like scorpions."

"Had I known earlier, I would have left one on your desk."

Shunsui turned to Rantao. "You don't know my Nanao-chan. The scary thing is, she actually _would _leave a live scorpion on my desk."

Jushiro interjected before Nanao could potentially say something stupid. "I think Nanao-san would have done just about anything to get Shunsui to actually call her 'Fukutaicho'."

Rantao chuckled absentmindedly. "I guess if I had a daughter, I would have a hard time switching titles, too."

A heavy, truly awkward air of silence descended onto the table; as no one really wanted to point out that Nanao had become a vice captain long before she became known as his daughter.

"_Ahem_," Shunsui cleared his throat as casually as could be warranted. "Ah, Nanao-chan, why don't you bring out dessert, ne?"

"Please," Rantao quickly said, "let me help."

Nanao gave Shunsui a hesitant look, but excused herself. "Suuure, I'll... be right back." She got up from the table, catching a look from Kiyone that could only be interpreted as "_I'd offer to help clear but it sounds like Rantao wants some time to talk with you in the kitchen."_ Nanao took the turducken and potatoes with her, and Rantao took the roast vegetables, salad, and pasta.

Once in the kitchen, Nanao expected the older woman to say something. Rantao Kiku was much older than most of the women Kyoraku Shunsui had dated. Whereas he had spent a while targeting women younger than Nanao's age - roughly 27 or so in human years - Kiku was significantly older than that, closer to a real-world age of 38. That made Rantao more likely to be social with Unohana Taicho than Nanao and her friends. It was the first time in ages that Shunsui had dated a woman closer to him in physical maturity than to his daughter, and it honestly made Nanao feel a bit uneasy. With younger women, Nanao never really cared; but an older woman was not going to put up with Papa's antics. If he made her miserable, Nanao was going to be miserable hearing about it.

Sure enough, Rantao broke the silence as Nanao began to ice the cake, something she didn't get around to earlier. "It sounds like you and Shunsui-san have... a history."

Nanao stopped what she was doing and gave Rantao a severely offended, biting, inquisitive glare. _"And just what are you implying?"_

Rantao stopped, mortified. "Excuse me, sorry; dear me, that came out _completely_ wrong," she apologized, very clearly embarrassed. "I meant to say that you've clearly had an atypical father/daughter relationship."

"I... suppose you could say that," Nanao said cautiously. She wasn't sure what exactly she was feeling at the moment, but whatever conversation Rantao had wanted to have had clearly started out on the wrong foot. Hell, even started out on the wrong _mile._

Rantao paused, and Nanao had a sense that Rantao didn't socialize very often. (Considering that she seemed to put her foot in her mouth every other minute, this was a very real possibility.) "I, um, wanted to talk with you."

Nanao just waited.

The brunette sighed. "I... don't know you or your father very well. I've obviously heard a lot about Kyoraku-san - if I had a penny for every comment I've received about him, I could retire and start my own laboratory."

"Not to be rude, but I'm not sure what you're getting at, Rantao-san."

"Please, call me Kiku," she replied anxiously. "I know that he's got his faults, but it seems to me that Kyoraku-san is a good man at heart, and in all honesty, I... haven't had much companionship. He is socially gracious whereas I'm a bit of a bumbling bookworm."

Even though she was proud of being a bookworm, Nanao decided not to take offense at that last comment. "You do know what you're getting into here, right? Papa is a bit of a..."

"Womanizer?" Rantao offered.

"Uh, yes, if you wanted to be blunt."

She sighed. "I know. In honesty, I don't have high expectations. I'll confess I'm actually a bit desperate."

Nanao raised an eyebrow. That was not something you usually heard someone actually verbalize in such a fashion. In truth, it was pretty sad. She paused for a moment, mixing the icing as she tried to gather her thoughts. "You shouldn't settle for a shmuck."

Rantao was totally taken off guard by that comment. "Did you just call your father a shmuck?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I did," Nanao answered angrily, not sure where her anger came from but she was just ready to burst. "He's a shmuck, and I hate to say it because I love my Papa, but he's still a shmuck. You have _no fucking idea_ how complicated things can be with him. I love the man to the ends of the universe because he raised me and cared for me, and yes, deep down he really is a loving guy - but he likes that loving a bit too much. He has no concept of boundaries, and it pisses me off that you're going to just give in to him because you're 'desperate'. He doesn't need any encouragement," she snapped, viciously stirring the icing in the bowl hard enough to the point where Rantao thought it might actually curdle.

The scientist took a step back, startled by Nanao's outburst. "I... I'm sorry, I-"

Nanao sighed, regretting her vicious little mouth. She took a deep breath. "No, I'm sorry - I shouldn't have gotten angry like that. I just... I guess I was just hoping that Papa might take someone seriously for once."

Rantao stammered for a minute. "Dear Lord, I didn't mean to imply that I wanted to _use_ him!" she clarified worriedly, and then her shoulders and face fell in a gesture of absolute patheticness. "It's just that I've never had so much attention before. The promotion came out of left field, and then before you know it, Kyoraku-san was being so polite, and, and, and... and when he asked me to go grab a bite to eat with him one afternoon, I just decided it wouldn't be such a bad thing if I got out more, that's all."

It was so utterly sad how low Rantao's self esteem was that Nanao couldn't help but feel bad for the woman. "Look, maybe we've gotten off to the wrong start here. I don't dislike you or anything, it's just that I don't want to see Papa hurt you. He's hurt me plenty of times, and I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't warn you. But I would be happy for both of you if things worked out, even if I think it's not going to happen."

The bespectacled researcher nodded slowly in understanding. Rantao was having trouble sorting out everything, but was nonetheless relieved. "I see," she said softly. "I... I was initially worried that you wouldn't like me, just because I was dating your father. I know it sounds silly, but I was afraid you'd think of me as an evil stepmother or something."

"Psh," Nanao snorted. "You gotta be kidding me. If you can keep a leash on him, Kami bless you."

Her guest was about to say something, but Nanao cut her off. "But I'll say this up front: no matter what happens, don't expect me to call you 'Mom.' No offense, but it's weird enough calling him 'Papa' after calling him 'Kyoraku Taicho' for a hundred and twenty years."

Rantao gave her a baffled look. "Did I... miss something?"

Nanao rolled her eyes with a smile. "It's a long and complicated story - enough to fill a book with forty-five chapters. Ask me some other time."

The older woman breathed out as if to relax. "I have to confess, this whole dinner is _very_ awkward. I'm a vice captain appointed from a fairly low rank, and I barely know anyone here in Soul Society anymore. All of a sudden, I'm eating dinner with two of the most senior captains in the Gotei 13, a major general, and a child prodigy. Only a month ago, that would have sounded impossible to me. It's hard not to feel out of place."

"Don't tell Kiyone-san you think she's a child prodigy," Nanao laughed. "You'll insult her and stroke her ego all at the same time."

Rantao smiled cheerily, recognizing both of the Ukitakes' sensitivity regarding their ages. She was about to say something when an explosion of excited and enthusiastic squealing erupted in the dining room. Nanao and Rantao looked at each other and darted out of the kitchen.

Kiyone was hugging her sister Isane and the two of them were jumping up and down in a completely wild fashion, laughter and happy shrieking practically blowing out Nanao's eardrums. Jushiro and Shunsui were still sitting, but they each had big smiles on their faces and were raising their glasses in a toast.

It was a good thing the dining room in the Ugendo Estate had an extra-high ceiling, or Isane would have crashed right into it. "Nanao-san!" Isane exclaimed, diving right into her oldest and most cherished friend. Nanao had all the air squeezed out of her and could barely breathe with her face trapped in Isane's tightly-packed bosom. "Nanao-san!"

"Huh? What's going on?"

Isane held up her left hand to show off a bright, gleaming ring. "I'm _GETTING MARRIED!_"

-:-

_Elsewhere, three years ago_

I sat down on the bed. I had cycled through my typical array of questions, and I had received no answers at all today other than a single "Yes" when I asked if I should stay.

She closed her book, apparently finishing it, and stood up. I watched carefully as she placed it back on the shelf. After a few moments, she took two books off the shelf. I was surprised when she handed one to me before she sat back down and resumed reading.

It was a compendium of Shakespeare. "Do you want me to read this?"

"Yes."

I wasn't sure what this was about, but I knew she was trying to tell me something. "Alright," I shrugged, and started reading.

-:-

_Three months ago_

Sasakibe Chojiro had been enjoying his little retreat immensely. London had been wonderful; the tea, the crumpets, the shepherd's pie and warm beer, the ladies. It had been a fabulous reprieve from his dull and boring duties of the 1st division.

It had been a relaxing vacation. At least until he was clubbed over the head, bound, gagged, blinded, and thrown into the back of a van.

* * *

_Extra points to those of you who caught the inside jokes. **Next Chapter:** The introductions are over with, and now we get to the meat of the story - the blood-pumping thrill ride begins!  
Expect a few days before the next update, but it will be worth it. I'll say this: Hiyori time! _


	9. An Ancient Horror

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach, nor do I own Star Wars.

_**Translator's note: **'Hage' technically means 'Baldy'. Hiyori uses this mild insult all the time; it's a Japanese culture thing. __In some translations (e.g. Dattebayo) the word 'dickhead' is used, but this is probably too severe a translation. _The closest English translation that would make cultural sense in context would be 'jerk' or 'dumbass', although the essence of the meaning is lost in translation. 

* * *

_"Be proud of the way you are. Because we ultimately become who Fate asks us to be, and sometimes, accepting that is the way we can help the world."  
~ Captain of the 5th Division, Shiba Kuukaku; on why she never wears a prosthesis_

* * *

Hiyori knew that when her left boob itched, it was a surefire sign that she was being followed.

It was a bright and breezy day, and she sped down the busy center-of-town street on her motorized wheelchair while trying to pick up a reiatsu trace. It wasn't immediately discernible, so Hiyori was a bit alarmed. At the very least, it was a busy day and there were many people gallavanting this way and that. She wasn't close to home, but as long as she stayed in public, a confrontation was unlikely.

Although Hiyori hated being reminded of it, her fighting days were long over. She unceremoniously scratched the itch, picked an irritating booger out of her nose, and whipped out her cell phone. "Shinji?"

"What's up, babe?" came the other end.

"I got a five-niner on a four-ten hop."

She could practically feel him frown through the phone. "You've been watching waaaay too many movies."

"I love you, too. Now can you send someone to help me with the groceries, or are you seriously gonna make me try and use kido to stop this buffoon?"

Shinji laughed. "Your kido couldn't stop a dog from pissing on a fire hydrant."

Hiyori snorted. "I'm not dicking around, Meathead. I got someone who's been following me for at least ten minutes, and I can't exactly get lost in the crowd." She cursed herself for being an easy target. Goddamn it, she swore. I would give anything to have my legs back right now.

A sigh came through the phone. "Love and Rose should be close by - I'm a bit swamped over here. Is that okay?"

Hiyori wanted to say no, but that wouldn't be fair. Shinji was the only one of them who had managed to land a real corporate job. Despite the fact that he worked eighty hours a week, it was his medical benefits that gave Hiyori her motorized wheelchair - her key to independence. "Yeah. But tell them to hurry up."

"Yeah, yeah."

Hiyori hung up on her completely aggravating husband as she slowed down on the busy street, trying to linger longer amongst the crowd. She loved him endlessly - but he was still a dickhead.

She strategically rode by a storefront that had a heavy glare in the window pane, hopeful that she could use the mirrored surface to get a look behind her without making it obvious. The man following her was instantly identifiable - he stuck out like a sore thumb in a room full of socks.

He was a tall, grimy European-looking individual wearing a gray one-piece jumpsuit, the kind that plumbers wear while they're on the job. His gray, lifeless eyes matched his deathly palor, and his hair was dissheveled just shy of enough to make him look like a graveborn zombie. What made it so painfully obvious was that he was carrying a nylon guitar case on his back. Plumbers with guitars are unusual enough, but most people carry a guitar neck-up. This fella had the guitar case slung over his right shoulder, with the the neck pointed down at an angle towards his left foot.

Hiyori knew that even her brickhead of a husband would notice that it was the most convenient way to hide a large sword.

She turned quickly and picked up the pace, dialing Love. "Damnit, Hage, where are you?"

"We can see you," he said in his best Samuel L. Jackson voice. "Turn left at Rosako Park and right on Tarikawa Avenue. Rose and I will cut him off."

Hiyori smirked. "Just because you shaved your head doesn't mean I'm gonna start calling you Mace Windu," she teased. "Thanks."

Cursing the fact that her wheelchair couldn't go any faster, she could feel the man gaining on her. Hiyori casually reached for her hook. It was a small, thin, two-foot metal rod with a small looped hook on one end and a larger hook on the other. Because she had absolutely nothing below her waist (save for a synthetic prosthesis made to mimic hips that contained an artificial bladder), getting in and out of her wheelchair was not easy. The hook was for when she dropped her keys or phone or whatever. It also made a suitable weapon in a pinch.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw that he had picked up the pace, and started closing the gap.

Hiyori swore and reminded herself that it really was time to get a gun. Pulling a can out of her groceries - seriously, Hachi was supposed to be on a diet, why the hell was he asking for pumpkin pie filling? - she did a hard left at the park's edge, as per Love's directions. Using the momentum of the turn to her advantage, she heaved the makeshift projectile at her assailant, and then yanked down a trash can with her hook to slow him down.

To her terror, the man did indeed whip a sword out of the guitar case and cleaved the can in two - a hell of a lot faster than any normal person should have been able to do.

Fortunately, it bought her time as mashed pumpkin exploded in his face, temporarily blinding him. Hiyori followed with a can of peas - a shame, because she actually liked peas - but it wasn't very effective as it only hit him in the shoulder. Unless she beaned him in the head or nailed him in the nuts, he likely was going to be able to shrug it off.

Wiping his face with his sleeve, the man let out a guttural, inhuman roar. Hiyori glanced over her shoulder as she made a right onto Tarikawa, frightened by the noise.

The man's tongue had been cut out.

_"LOVE! ROSE!"_

They came out from an alleyway, swords in hand. "Rose will take you home," Love instructed. Hiyori nodded, and the two left Love to survey the man chasing after her. Love was instantly dismayed by what he saw.

The pursuer's sword was a hand-and-a-half broadsword with a platinum crossguard and a thick, heavy black blade. If it was a lifeless object, it would have weighed far too much for someone to wield one-handed.

Love dashed forward, his katana extended in a dive for the man's throat. The grimy man dodged left, thrusting a kick forward into Love's gut - and when the blow connected, Love felt it in his eyeballs. This was not a normal strike - it almost felt like he was hit with shunko.

Stumbling backwards, Love was able to regain his balance enough to see the black sword coming down at him. He blocked - and then his zanpakutoh shattered like glass.

"Holy motherfucker," Love swore. Grabbing a metal trash can lid that had conveniently been knocked over, he turned tail and ran. _"ROSE! GET THE FUCK OVER HERE, NOW!"_

"Hiyori, get away as fast as you can - we'll stall him," Rose said quickly. She nodded, and he joined the fray. Slipping into shikai, he cracked his whip hard at the black-bladed pursuer, giving Love a chance to gain some distance.

As soon as Love had breathing room, he fired off a _Hado #32: Yellow Fire Flash_ at Ol' Plumber Joe. He evaded, slashing out at the blast to dissolve it. _Sweet motherfucker_, Love thought, this guy is ridiculous. Whatever he is, his spiritual pressure is through the roof. Not too many people can deal with captain-class kido spells.

The odd assailant finally spoke, and managed to mumble out some words that were only barely recognizable: _"Devour, Ragnarok."_

_Oh shiiiiiiiiit_, Love thought as he ran like hell. Without a zanpakutou, there was no way he was getting out of this alive. "Hiyori, c'mon!" he said, running up behind her.

_"I'm going as fast as I damn can!"_

"Fuck it," he said, and shifted the gear into neutral from behind.

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Saving your ass from certain death," Love said, pushing the heavy motorized wheelchair as fast as he could on flash steps. His distance was hampered by the weight and the fact that he was still in a gigai, but at least they were escaping.

"What about Rose?"

"He can handle it," Love panted as he strained to get Hiyori and her apparatus away from the battle.

_"Hage!"_ Hiyori yelled at him. "I got it from here! Go back for Rose!"

Looking over his shoulder, Love could tell Rose was indeed in trouble. Hiyori was far enough from the fray to make it back to the warehouse on her own, as long he could stall the pursuer. "Alright, but get going!"

Hiyori grumbled, but her days of heroics were long over. Snapping the chassy back into gear, she plodded down at what could only be comparable to a brisk pace.

Love turned back on flash steps, chaining off _Hado #4: White Lightnings_ in an attempt to provide Rose some cover.

It wasn't working. In flashes and blips, Rose was suddenly engaged in close-quarter combat with Plumber Joe, and his shikai was terrible under the circumstances. Love arrived to clothesline Joe away, but the pallid gray man pulled Love down with him, biting into the flesh of his arm. Love swore as his teeth broke skin, and the pain was excruciating as the European man literally tore a hunk of flesh from it.

Rose wasn't in good shape, either. He had been stabbed in the leg and his ear had been sliced open. Joe scrambled to his feet, kicked Love in the head for good measure, and then charged on Rose.

In a flicker of shunpo, Rose barely escaped a beheading, but he was badly injured. Love barely had time to witness Rose pull on his hollow mask, preparing to escalate.

The last words of Rose's life were interrupted. _"Kinshara - Bankai, Soto-"_

_"ROOOOAAAR!"_ The tongueless man yelled, and a purple tendril of evil slithered out the end of his sword and right down Rose's open throat. With a furious yank, a horrid, squelching, ripping tear grated Love's ears. It was a terrifying, repulsive, convulsion-inducing sound Love recognized as the forceful removal of a soul from a gigai. The glowing white embers of its essence snaked along the purple tendril, and enormous jaws that appeared at the end of the one-and-only Ragnarok clamped down and devoured it.

Plumber Joe then turned his attention back to Love, and Love realized that he had only moments to live. He fired off a _Hado #31: Shot of Red Fire_, but Joe batted it back at him with the heavy black broadsword, and his own Hado spell struck him in the chest. It hurt like a bitch and knocked him back down to the ground. The blast hit him right in the soloplex, and Love found his whole body unable to respond.

Love stared up at the black blade, prepared to accept his fate, when a flash of blue light struck the stalker through the head. Plumber Joe collapsed in a crumpled heap, unconscious.

Ishida Uryu flickered into place. "Are you alright?"

Love allowed the quincy to slowly help him to his feet. It took quite a few moments until he could even sit up. "Yeah, but-"

Before he could say another word, a fleet of unmarked black cars and SUVs with tinted windows pulled up, and men in dark suits and sunglasses started pouring out of them. Quickly, they seized the fallen attacker, handcuffed him, and hauled him off into the back of an armored SUV. A series of other workers located and wrapped up up the sword that he had been wielding, and carted it off for evidence.

While this was going on, a man approached them. He wasn't Japanese, but it wasn't clear where he was from. Possibly Russian, considering the blond hair, but he spoke with a perfect Nagasaki accent that would have been completely impossible for a foreigner to master. "Thank you for your assistance," he said in a flat tone, flashing a badge of some sort too quickly for either Ishida or Love to really check it out. "I'm Agent Jones from the National Anti-Terrorism Agency. We've been looking for this terrorist for a number of weeks now; seems he's been going on a rape and murder spree. We'll take him from here, along with his murder weapon for evidence."

Ishida gave the man a furrowed brow. "Um, what about Ro-"

"I'm sorry," the agent said, cutting him off, "I can't tell you any more than that. Classified information. One of these men will come and take a statement from you."

With that, the agent who identified himself as Jones turned and quickly got into a car, driving off with a cavalcade of others behind him. A tall, dark man who appeared distinctly African approached them. He flashed another badge at them, identified himself as Agent Roberts, and took down their personal information. Oddly enough, his Japanese was a perfect Kyoto dialect.

But before Ishida could ask him any questions, he thanked them with a tone that indicated the subject was closed. "Thank you for your time. NATA will be in touch with you if we require more information. We've already radioed for an ambulance and it should be here soon for your friend over there." Then, rather abruptly, he got into his black SUV and thundered off.

"Bullshit," Ishida spat, pointing to his pager. He was on the hospital's paramedic/EMT shift, and if they had radioed for an ambulance, it would have gone off.

"Quick, let's get Rose's body out of here," Love suggested. "If we wait too long, it's going to revert back to its doll form, and then we're going to have a lot more explaining to do."

Ishida yanked his cell out of his pocket and dialed his fiance. "Orihime, how are you feeling?"

Orihime coughed on the other end. "Alright, I guess."

He knew she was putting on a brave face, and he hated to ask her for anything, but this was an absolute emergency. "Do you think you can drive?"

She knew he would never ask her this if it wasn't really important. "Yeah, I should be able to. I got a good night's rest."

Ishida sighed. He shouldn't be asking her to get involved - he had a bad feeling about this. "Alright," he said, not knowing any other options, and explained the situation.

"On my way," she said with a bit of steel in her voice. It reminded him of many years gone past; the better days when things were simpler. In a brief flash of unusual optimism, he wondered if a little excitement would be good for her.

-:-

The mood was somber back at the Vaizard warehouse. Rose's gigai had been incinerated, thanks to a quick _Hado #54: Abolishing Flames_ from Hachi. There were no ashes, but Lisa symbolically wiped the area with a handkerchief, as if to gather the ashes. Lisa, who found herself even more bitterly angry than usual, folded the handkerchief carefully and deposited it into a small vase. With a silent prayer to a nameless god, she put the vase on a shelf in the main room.

"What the hell happened?" Shinji asked as he barged in, slamming the door shut. He had rushed from the office as soon as he could.

The sound made Orihime wince in her chair, and Shinji instantly regretted it. The pale woman was gaunt, a specter of her former self. She readjusted her beret as she rubbed her temples, the sound of the door slamming clearly initiating a migraine. Even though her prognosis was very positive, breast cancer had done her the worst kind of justice. Hiyori had seen her in the hospital recently, when Orihime had gone in for (hopefully) her last and final round of chemo. She was pale and sickly, and Shinji realized that she really should be in bed.

Hiyori, Ishida, and Love related the story. Shinji's eyes widened when Love mentioned the black sword.

"You can't be damn serious," Shinji exclaimed. "Did you really hear him say '_Ragnarok_'?"

"Absolutely positive," Love reassured him. "That's when he sucked the soul right out of Rose."

Ishida interrupted. "What's so special about this Ragnarok sword?"

Kensei snorted. "I forget how young you guys are. You don't know anything about Ho Shin Yang, do you?"

Orihime shook her head. "...No - who was he?"

Lisa pushed her glasses up her nose. "He was the previous soutaicho of the Gotei 13, before General Yamamoto."

"Over a thousand years ago," Kensei clarified. "The demon sword Ragnarok was his zanpakutou. I'm amazed only _one_ of you died back there."

Ishida wanted to ask a million questions, but the conversation was moving too quickly. Shinji's mouth was flapping a million words a minute. "This sounds crazy suspicious to me. Some dude walking around in the middle of a park swinging a sword long thought to have disappeared? And for the sword to be alive? That's ridiculous."

"Do you think that means Yang Soutaicho is alive?" wondered Mashiro, lollipop dangling out of her mouth.

"Who knows," Lisa muttered. "Who knows where he went. But even still, from the way Love and Hiyori describe him, there's no way that guy was Yang. If you think Yamamoto looks old, you haven't seen Yang. He was four thousand years old when he left the Gotei 13."

"Why did he leave?" Orhihime asked.

"Dude was four thousand fucking years old," Kensei spat. "If I live that long you can bet your ass I'm gonna retire."

"Could Yang be in the Royal Guard?" Love suggested.

Shinji shook his head. "If he was, he's not there anymore. Kurosaki Senior never met him."

Ishida couldn't take it anymore. "Can someone please explain how- - -"

His question was interrupted by an intense explosion above. Hachi knew immediately what had happened. "The shields around the warehouse!"

"_Shit! We gotta get out of here **now!**_" Shinji barked. The noise was deafening - he could hear artillery fire raining bullets down against the shields, and in between rounds, he could hear the whir of helicopter blades. Explosions continued to rattle his eardrums as the ground shook and the warehouse creaked under the strain, despite the barriers.

"Kensei, Mashiro, Hachi - get in the van! Lisa, Love - go with them!" he ordered, pointing at Ishida and Inoue. Grabbing Hiyori right out of her wheelchair and slinging her over his shoulder against her very vocal protestations about leaving her wheelchair behind, Shinji bolted out the door.

Hachi had his mask on and was chanting, holding the barriers while everybody piled into their cars. He could see through the windows that there were at least two helicopters over the warehouse, and they were dropping massive incendiary devices against the building. The firebombs were beginning to crack the shields, but he focused amidst the chaos, trying to give the others cover to escape.

Love, Lisa, and Ishida piled into the car while Orihime struggled to get the old clunker's engine to start. Shinji was strapping Hiyori's backup wheelchair into place because there wasn't time to get the electric one inside. Mashiro was revving the engine as Kensei tossed two large duffels worth of supplies into the back of the van and slammed the doors shut.

Hachi made a break for it, trying despite his girth to move quickly enough to get inside. His shields were cracking.

_"DAMNIT, HACHI, C'MON!"_ Hiyori screamed.

But it was too late. His shields gave way, and a massive spray of bullets pierced him everywhere, and the giant man fell backwards in a stomach-wrenching spurt of crimson.

* * *

_**Reviews, **please! I'll be on vacation for Chanukah - Happy Festival of Lights to everyone! - so the next release probably won't be out until Sunday. **Next chapter: **__Car chase! _


	10. Road Rage

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_"I don't profess to know the difference between a human and an overwrought lump of clay, but I could imagine that humans are capable of very mysterious things."_  
_~Hikifune Muertara, cousin of Kirio and Miyako, and current Acting Head of the Hikifune Family_

* * *

_"HACHI!"_ Shinji yelled.

_"Fuck it!"_ Kensei screamed. "We're all gonna die unless we get out of here! Mashiro, _move it!_"

Mashiro pushed the pedal so hard it could have gone straight through the bottom of the van floor. The van shot off down the highway.

"Goddamn it, Kensei," Shinji swore, trying to squash down his emotions.

"You think _I'm_ happy about it?" Kensei pissed from the back of the converted cargo van. Besides the driver and passenger-side driver seat, the rest of it had been emptied out with a wheelchair lock and an electric-powered retractable ramp - so Kensei was clutching side rails. "I don't got time to think about it - we're being tailed."

Hiyori was overwhelmed. What the hell is going on? She clutched the sides of her portable wheelchair to brace herself as Mashiro pulled the van into a hard right. Shinji looked back from the front passenger seat.

"Mashiro, they're gaining on us!" Kensei called from the back.

"Alright, hold on!"

Mashiro did a hard right through a red light, swerving off onto a main route, weaving into traffic amidst a course of honks.

That's when bullets shattered the back windows of the van. _"FUCK!"_ Kensei screamed, showered in glass. Hiyori ducked as low as she could as bits of glass dust got into her hair.

Mashiro swore and did a hard left this time, and Shinji began to sweat. "Hey, wait a minute, where the hell are you going? !"

"Hold on tight, everybody!"

_"MASHIRO, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"_

Mashiro slammed hard on the breaks as she jammed the steering wheel to the side. _"Brace yourself, Kensei!"_

Shinji winced as though his life was moving in slow motion. The van rotated 180 degrees before it slammed into a guard rail with enough momentum to rattle Shinji's rib cage. With an ear-splitting crunch, the van went straight through the guard rail in reverse, over the edge of the overpass and right into oncoming traffic.

Kensei was slammed into the back doors of the van as it landed hard with a thunderous crack; the remaining windows shattering from the impact. Just as he regained his balance, Mashiro gunned the engine, shooting them forward head-first into a sea of oncoming cars before Mashiro could pull over onto the right side of the highway. "Ugh... I'm gonna fucking kill you," Kensei grunted.

"Enough with the swearing, and start shooting, goddamnit!" Mashiro retorted. Although they had lost the two black sedans, they could see a black SUV, coming from a different route, that was turning onto their trail.

Mashiro dodged in and out of cars as she sped faster and faster down the highway. Kensei opened up one of the duffel bags and pulled out a dual-barrel shotgun.

"Holy _shit_, where did you get _that_?" Hiyori asked. Japan's gun control laws were so tight that Hiyori couldn't even legally buy a handgun. The possession of a shotgun without a license was a serious crime.

"Just a little insurance I bought from Urahara a while back," he answered, loading the rounds and opening fire. The shotgun had terrible accuracy, but it didn't matter. At this range, the heavy shots chipped the windshield on the SUV, putting holes into the hood and front grille. "Damnit, they got some kind of bulletproof glass."

"Whatever - don't stop!" Mashiro shouted, swerving.

"You don't need to tell me!" Kensei shouted back, reloading. He fired again, this time aiming for the man trying to shoot out the side window. The shooter dived back into the safety of the car, but started firing again when Kensei reloaded.

Bullets flew in, and Hiyori began to panic when three of them hit the ceiling above her. Her blood was pumping too hard, too fast; she wasn't used to this kind of adrenaline anymore and her hyper-stimulated cardiac system gave her a wave of intense dizzyness. It was so bad that Hiyori's vision blurred. Shinji was shouting something at her, but the words were turning into mush in her ears. The only thing she could make out was a spray of bullets colliding into the van's cargo doors. But all the horror in the world was incomparable to when Shinji unbuckled his seatbelt. "Shinji! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hiyori yelled from her crouched position as Mashiro did a hard-right off the main highway onto a smaller one.

_"EVERYBODY DOWN!"_ Kensei shouted.

A man in a dark suit had opened up the sunroof of the SUV, and was now able to fire a shoulder-launched rocket at the back of the van. Mashiro swerved into another lane, and the rocket barely clipped the back right side of the van, exploding but not enough to cause serious damage.

Shinji shouted to Mashiro. "Get to the sidewinder road!"

"Are you out of your fucking mind? !" Hiyori yelled at him. "We'll go off a cliff!"

Shinji ignored her as he dug around in the duffel bags, eventually grabbing his zanpakutou and jumping back into the front seat.

Kensei fired off two more rounds, causing the SUV to fall back a little bit. "Hurry up, Shinji! I don't have a lot of ammo- _FUCK! INCOMING!_"

A rocket pounded into the back of the van, exploding the doors inward. Glass and metal shards flew everywhere; shrapnel ricocheting off the inside walls and embedding into the back of Shinji's seat. Kensei took the brunt of the impact and was bleeding badly from his eyebrow. They were sitting ducks with the back of the cargo van blown wide open, and Hiyori didn't know if Kensei would be able to provide any further pressure on their pursuers.

"Any time now, Shinji!" Kensei swore angrily, wiping blood from his eyes.

"Almost there!" Mashiro shouted.

Shinji pulled out his zanpakutou as Mashiro turned onto the winding road by the mountains, speeding down it probably faster than was warranted.

Kensei fired the shotgun again, trying to keep the man with the rocket launcher from sticking out of the SUV. _"GODDAMNIT, SHINJI, HURRY THE FUCK UP!"_

Shinji grimaced. They weren't quite at the turn yet.

"Almost..." Mashiro said, easing on the break as she pulled into the hairpin turn at a dangerous speed. _"NOW!"_

_"Collapse, Sakanade!"_ Shinji shouted.

The SUV had no idea what hit them. The driver turned right, thinking that he would cling to the wall of the mountain-side road and follow them in the hairpin turn -

But it was an inverted world; and without realizing it, he steered the SUV right off the cliff; sending it tumbling down two hundred meters down the moutain face and into the Pacific ocean.

-:-

Ichigo was eating lunch in the hospital. He had exactly seven-and-a-half minutes for his lunch break. His residency was demanding, but it was an excellent program; so he put up with it. Meeting Rukia every five hours made it even more crazy than it already was, but he had no choice.

The television in the break room was blaring. Just the news. More crisis in the economy. The war in Europe was still raging. It was all the same. Ichigo had enough depressing things to focus on in the hospital - kids who were stuck with cancer, trauma victims - so he tended to tune out the news.

Despite the hectic insanity that his life was right now, it was actually not so bad. Since he got married ten years ago, things had been quiet. The fall of Aizen, and the crushing of Hueco Mundo's most savage leaders, had left an era of uneventful peace. Whereas the first two years of Ichigo's high-school career were filled with war, his junior and senior year had been uneventful. There were still the routine hollow kills, but beyond that, life moved on.

He graduated along with Ishida and Orhihime at the top of his class, with Tatsuki not far behind. Chad also did pretty well, although he opted not to go to university. His band had signed with a small record label, and Chad toured the country for a while. Chad ultimately gave it up, though. Chizuru and her girlfriend of several years had been brutally murdered in a hate crime incident, and when Chad came back to Karakura to pay his respects, he found himself unable to go back to the carefree rocker lifestyle. The whole incident really affected him, and he gave it up. Instead, he got involved in a nonprofit organization that specialized in tolerance education programs, and was now using his musical talents to design and organize special programs for schools all over the country. As a victim himself of racism in a country that still had a subtle distaste for foreigners, Chad found a way to help others in a way that was unique to his own talents.

Keigo skipped out on college and had opened up a comic book store, and Mizuro had decided to go to university in Singapore. Ichigo, Tatsuki, Ishida and Orihime all went to Tokyo University. Tatsuki majored in nursing and earned her R.N., Ichigo and Ishida went pre-med. Because of their long-standing rivalry, they both ended up pushing each other until they graduated with high honors. Orihime had unfortunately been unable to finish college, but she was going to go back as soon as she could.

Medical school had gone well. Ichigo wasn't really surprised he had become a doctor like his old man. Rukia always knew he would follow in the family business; after all, if he would protect people with a zanpakutou, it would only make sense he would want to protect them with medicine, too. His wife would tease him, though, that despite the fact that he was actually a very good physician, he still couldn't use medical kido. He had to admit that it was remarkably ironic. On the other hand, he was an excellent surgeon - Rukia was forced to jokingly admit that he was decent with a blade, no matter the size.

Ishida had deferred his residency in order to help take care of Orihime. He had proposed to her already, although neither of them knew when (or if) they would get married. Ichigo took his residency in Tokyo, both because it was an excellent place to do his residency and also so he could be close to home. Although Ichigo and Rukia had a small studio apartment close to the hospital, Ichigo often still stayed in his father's house when Rukia wasn't in town. He couldn't really find it in his heart to leave his dad there all alone. Rukia thought it was a bit weird that Ichigo voluntarily wanted to live with his dad, but she did think that it was good for Isshin.

Yuzu had gone to culinary school, and of course graduated at the top of her class. Despite being straight out of school, she was immediately hired as a sous chef in a very prestigious restaraunt in downtown Tokyo. Considering that she had been in a nurse in the family clinic for nearly all her life, Yuzu still wanted to go back to school for nursing some day - but for the time being, she was happy where life had taken her.

Jinta was still hitting on her, but he failed to catch the hint that she was more interested in Ururu. Yuzu's confession had been a complete surprise, but everyone in the family had been very supportive when she came out of the closet. Ururu herself was completely oblivious, so Yuzu didn't really pursue it. Jinta was not as easily dissuaded, though. On more than one occasion, Karin wanted to punch him and tell him to get lost; but Yuzu didn't seem to mind too much.

Karin had gone to university in Osaka, where she studied neurobiology. She played for the university's soccer team, and had been noticed. She had just graduated, and within the past few weeks had been recruited for both the World Cup and even the Olympics, both remarkable requests given her relatively young age. Karin was still trying to sort it all out and determine what she wanted to do. Toshiro was annoyed - he saw her rarely enough as it was - but was helping her sort out how she felt about all the attention and what she would do for the future. Ichigo was happy for Karin, but wasn't sure how he was going to explain to the Soutaicho that the Division Black vice captain couldn't come to the lieutenant's meetings because she was kicking a ball around.

Ichigo was taking a big bite out of his sandwich - pastrami on a ciabatta roll with mustard & mayo that Yuzu had given him when she came to visit the night before - when the news caught his attention.

_"The National Anti-Terrorism Agency firebombed a terrorist cell this afternoon in downtown Karakura. Two terrorists have already been killed, and the NATA is in hot pursuit. We have live footage of a helicopter chasing after a white sedan. The terrorist group has already taken two hostages, identified as twenty-five-year old Ishida Uryu, and his fiance, twenty-six-year-old Inoue Orihime. The terrorists are speeding down Route 36, and NATA is closing the roads as we speak..."_

Ichigo whipped out his cell and got Karin on the phone as he rushed to find a place to get Kon in his body. Karin picked up the phone and he could hear American jet planes in the background. "Did you see the news?"

"I'm opening a senkai gate right now. I'll inform the Soutaicho about the attack," Karin confirmed.

"I don't know what's going on, but -"

"Ichi-nii, I got this - _go!_"

"On it," he confirmed, hanging up the phone and dialing Rukia.

-:-

_"Hado #31: Shot of Red Fire!"_ Lisa cast, leaning out of the back window of Orihime's ancient white Nissan Maxima. The helicopter easily evaded it. "Damnit, this isn't working!" she shouted over the roar of the open windows on the highway.

Ishida was worried about Orhihime. She was driving, but she wasn't used to this kind of excitement. Still, she seemed to be holding her resolve together pretty well. Her face was stern and serious and focused, though. For a moment, she even looked like the Inoue who had once infiltrated Soul Society with impugnity, before the kidnapping into Hueco Mundo broke her spirit and before the cancer had killed her Shun-Shun Rikka.

Love fired off a _Hado #33: Blue Fire, Crash Down_; and Lisa added a _Hado #32: Yellow Fire Flash_. The helicopter evaded, but apparently the pilot had enough, and started to open fire. Lisa put up a _Bakudo #39: Arc Shield_ to defend them, but the reiatsu-based shield had trouble blocking physical matter, and the bullets sank into the trunk.

"Orihime, keep it steady!" Ishida shouted.

"Uryu, what the... no! Are you _nuts_?"

Ishida climbed out the sunroof, and in a flash of hirenkyaku, flickered over the underside of the helicopter. Coasting on a surface of reishi, he whipped out a Seele Schneider and sliced off the machine guns mounted to the side of the copter. He was worried about revealing his Quincy powers to the pursuers - it was clear that they were coming after the vaizard, and he didn't want them to think he was a threat - but he had no choice.

Cutting a hole in the bottom of the helicopter, he let the metal floor fall away and started firing arrows of energy into the cockpit. The pilot was completely taken by surprise, but started weaving and bobbing the helicopter in an attempt to smash him in mid-air. Ishida was going to fall back, but that was when he noticed the news helicopter that had been tailing them.

If a news helicopter caught video of him hovering in mid-air, there were going to be a _lot_ of problems.

Thinking quickly, he grabbed onto the landing rail of the helicopter, holding on for dear life as it spiraled, corkscrewed, twisted, careened, and otherwise throttled in an attempt to shake him off. Ishida's eyes were burning from the smoke and exhaust of the helicopter, and sparks were flying from severed wires in the floor he had cut. Fluids were also leaking, and it was clear that the pilot was having trouble.

_"GETSUGA TENSHOU!"_

Uryu dived out of the way to see Kurosaki's massive energy wave attack slice off the helicopter tail and a part of the blades. The helicopter began to lose control, and the pilot did an emergency ejection. After that, the copter dropped like a stone. Too close for comfort, Kurosaki flashed by and nabbed Ishida just before the helicopter hit the highway road, erupting into a giant ball of fire. The explosion made a deafening sound that instinctively made them throw their arms in front of their faces.

"You _idiot_!" Ishida yelled at him. "There's a news helicopter behind us!"

"You _moron_!" Ichigo yelled back. "I just saved your life and all you can think about is the _cameras! ?_"

"You _dimwit_! I was going to break my fall after I was out of their range of vision!"

"You _dumbass_! At that rate, you were going to break your fall with the _pavement_!"

Ishida pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Nevermind. We have to move - there's another copter coming this way!"

Ichigo swore, and the two of them flashed off down the grassy area on the side of the highway and into a wooded area. It didn't matter, though - they had been spotted, and now several larger Osprey helicopters were converging over the field. Streams and streams of soldiers in black military uniforms came diving out on ropes, and the unit began to follow them off into the forest.

"Goddamnit," Ichigo swore. "If you were like me, you could get out of your body and they wouldn't be able to see you."

"If I was like you, I would still be living with my parents," Ishida retorted.

"Ha ha, very funny," Ichigo countered sarcastically. _"Move it!"_

The two of them flashed through the trees, getting deeper and deeper into the wooded area at the base of the mountainous ranges south of Tokyo and Karakura.

From behind them, they could hear an uproar as fighting erupted. A huge blast of energy exploded behind them, and both of them could easily identify the familiar reiatsu. "Karin!" Ichigo exclaimed.

"She must have come with reinforcements - c'mon, let's go!"

As they retraced their steps back, the battle scene was intense. It was like the God of War had descended on a clearing inside a thick copse of trees. Karin was there, leading a squad of Onmitsukido, who occasionally served as backup reinforcements for Division Black. Normally, it was the 13th division's responsibility to handle hollow hunting and skirmishes on Earth, but the 13th had been spread thin, with the raging war in Europe leaving a larger number of souls than usual requiring shinigami services. Ichigo recognized the 2nd Division 3rd Seat, Hana Tsubaki, engaged in hand-to-hand with a group of heavily geared soldiers. The entire forest clearing was was littered with ninja-uniformed Shinigami Covert Ops and the SWAT-like soldiers, who wore no kind of identification.

Karin had obtained the high ground, and was raining bakudo and hado spells down like mad. She hadn't drawn either her kodachi or tachi yet, preferring to circle the clearing and fire off _Hado #__31s_.

Unlike Ichigo, who was heavily focused in swordsmanship and shunpo, Karin was a well-balanced shinigami with equal skill in shunpo, kido, zanjutsu, and hakuda. Her claim-to-fame, though, was that she was one of the very rare shinigami who had learned to use shunko. Besides its intial practitioners, Shihoin Yoruichi and Soifon, the only other shinigami known to have achieved this very precise art was Soifon's protege, Hana Tsubaki - and Karin didn't have the benefit of Soifon's training like Tsubaki did. Karin had figured it out all on her own.

Tsubaki planted her palm in the bridge of a soldier's nose, smashed him in the groin with her knee, and then spun around with her kodachi-sized zanpakutou behind her to cut a soldier across the throat. She dodged a punch from behind, seizing the attacker's hand as it passed her shoulder and flipped him over into one of Karin's oncoming fireballs.

Ishida got to work, spraying the area with a volley of arrows in an attempt to break down the swarm of reinforcements that were arriving. Ichigo went bankai, although his captain's seal limited the reiatsu blast too much for the transformation sequence to affect the battle. With sizzling speed, he sent an array of turbo-charged moon fangs into the surrounding copse of trees. The copse collapsed, hindering access to the clearing and creating greater confusion amidst the chaos. It left a narrow escape route and forced the incoming SWAT members to funnel in through a central location, allowing the shinigami to get into a better formation.

"Spamming GTs again, Ichi-nii?" Karin teased as she flashed past him for a moment.

"Meh, you're just pissed off that you _still_ can't do it yet," he teased back.

Tsubaki stabbed another soldier in the throat, kicked another in the face, and punched another in the gut before hurling him out of the way. She was actually a surprisingly sweet and caring individual, but fighting was fighting, and she took it seriously. "Guys, we gotta get out of here! We're outnumbered, and I don't know that we can take those soldiers if they break through our front line!"

Karin nodded, looking to Ishida. "The rest of us can escape through a normal senkai gate, but _you_ have to get out of here."

Ichigo agreed. "Let's get moving - retreat!"

As the small squadron (now led by Ichigo) sped out the southern edge of the woods, Karin pondered out loud. "I don't know how or why these guys can see us - I mean, they're definitely human. They should be passing right through us - but for some reason they can fight our spirit-based bodies."

Ichigo had no chance to dwell on it, for the moment that they emerged from the clearing onto another stretch of highway, Orhime's sedan was parked there waiting for them.

"We traced your reiatsu," Orhihime explained.

"No time for talking now," Karin ordered. Ishida and Inoue may be older, but she was officially the lieutenant. She would order them around if she needed to. "Quick, Ishida, get in!"

"Where's Love?" Ichigo asked as Ishida climbed in to the old Nissan.

"Dead," Lisa explained, slamming the door. "Shot in the head during a car chase. I detonated their vehicle with kido after that."

"But-" Tsubaki interjected.

"-that shouldn't kill him, right? Injure his gigai but leave his soul intact, right? Yeah, that's what we thought, too - but the same thing happened to Hachi. We don't know what's going on, but whoever's behind this knows what they're doing. Rose is dead, too; and someone almost got Hiyori earlier today."

Ichigo interrupted the chatter. "Hurry up, get outta here! It's probably too dangerous to go back to Karakura, and Tokyo is too close to there. Head to Norigaka. We'll get the 12th to open a spiritron-converter gate there, and you guys can hide out in Soul Society for a while." Orihime nodded and fired off faster than he could blink, tires squealing against the pavement.

He then called his wife while Karin and Hana prepared senkai gates for the shinigami forces. "Rukia?"

"Ichigo - is everything okay?"

"No," he answered. "Rose, Hachi and Love are dead, and we don't know where Shinji, Hiyori, Kensei or Mashiro are."

"They're safe - I'm setting up a rendevouz point for them now off an exit from Route 36. Hirako-san radioed Urahara-san."

"Good - we're sending Lisa-san, Ishida, and Inoue to Soul Society."

"We'll gate a gate ready," Rukia answered. "Ichigo, the Soutaicho called for an emergency captain's meeting, so you should come in to give a report. Let Karin-chan help Sado-kun on hollow duty - the 10th is going to investigate, and Hitsugaya Taicho wants to see her. Matsumoto-san is coming and I'll send Kotsubaki San Seki for support."

"Okay, see you soon," he answered hastily and hung up. He relayed the status to Karin, who nodded somberly; and then he and Hana headed to Soul Society. Hopefully, he could get some explanations.

* * *

_**Reviews, please!** What did you think of the car chase? Let me know! **Next chapter: **Banzo Ichihime. Yadomaru Lisa. Ise Nanao. Shiba Kuukaku. Soifon. C'mon, you know - it's all about Da Ladies._


	11. Interlude: Social Studies,Math,Science

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach. Fading into the background's fanfic references are used with permission.

**_Author's note:_**_ This chapter has tons of references to the Kuchiki Salvation Trilogy; but for those of you who don't remember, the name of Banzo Ichihime's zanpakutou is Shiji._

**_Translator's note:_**_ 'Baka' means 'idiot' or 'fool'. It is the most common __Japanese _insult.

* * *

_"Tch. In real life, the exciting is **always** interrupted by the mundane. Now don't you have paperwork to do?"  
~5th division vice captain Hinamori Momo, to her nephew Hitsugaya Makahiro; nearly two centuries from now_

_"There are some nobles who find a pressing need to hear themselves talk a tad too much."  
~Kuchiki Hisako, teasing her best friend about her father;  
approximately one hundred years from now_

_"Yeah, well, there are also some nobles who teach their kids about a grammatical construct called contractions."  
~Shihoin Zarina, in humorous retort_

* * *

_Meanwhile_

Ichihime waited nervously. She really wanted a drink - something with _lots_ of alcohol - but knew that wasn't exactly a way to make a good impression.

"Banzo-no-kimi?"

Ichihime looked over her shoulder at a tall, strikingly handsome man in a burgundy kimono. He had maple hair and a boyish face, with deep brown eyes and a gentle nose. His pleasing appearance almost made her forget that he had referred to her by the stuffiest honorific possible. "Yes?"

"I had no idea you were waiting for me, I'm terribly sorry! Did I get the wrong time?"

"No, Nikayui-san," she smiled anxiously as she stood to properly greet him with a tiny bow. "I just like to be early, that's all."

"Please, call me Adame," he said, bowing in turn. "I hope Your Grace wasn't waiting too long."

Ichihime tried very hard not to shudder at the excessive formality. It grated her ears, but she was a Head of the Four Houses meeting with someone from the lowest of the Upper Noble Families. There was no way she could avoid it. "No, not at all. 'Ichihime', if you don't mind, Adame-san."

He gestured for her to sit, and politely helped her with her chair. Ichihime normally never let her servant staff when they tried to do this for her, but this was different; he was just being chivalrous. He then sat down across from her, and then gave her a warm smile. "I'm honored to have this opportunity to meet with you. You look lovely."

Ichihime looked down at her kimono. It wasn't particularly elegant; a simple pink-and-purple striped pattern that she had thrown on over her shinigami uniform, since she didn't have time to fully change. She wondered if the compliment was simply a polite gesture. Ichihime hadn't even had the opportunity to dye her hair recently, and her platinum blond roots were visible in her otherwise lavender hair. Which, under the circumstances, should have been braided as per her station as Head of Banzo House. So for all intents and purposes, she was considered unkempt by societal standards.

Plus, she thought, a lady whose face looks like a truck drove over it doesn't ever really look lovely. "You are too kind," she returned politely.

He laughed, correctly interpreting her remarks. "I was being genuinely sincere, Ichihime-sama."

That was particularly surprising. Ichihime was so far off the typical noble wavelength that no one ever accurately divined her mannerisms. It bespoke of either an unusually insightful mind, or a man who had done lots of homework. Either way, it reflected positively on him. Regardless, if the compliment was sincere, it was not something she generally believed. Rather than taint the moment with an insistent denial, she let it drop - although that left her a bit dumbfounded, as she wasn't sure what to say. Ichihime was not exactly a skilled conversationalist, especially not for these kinds of stuffy chats.

In that moment of speechlessness, Ichihime realized that this entire evening was likely to be a complete and total disaster. Crash and burn from beginning to end. Had her father been alive, he would have orchestrated it; inviting Nikayui Adame and his father to arrange a formal introduction and to agree on a right for Adame to court her. Ichihime had been familiar with the process - she had gone through it many times before in her younger years. It had been a while, though - she had refused to allow her father to make any more arrangements for her after she was jilted by Shiba Isshashine, the brother-in-law of her captain. She had no taste for the pomp and circumstance - it left a bitter taste in her mouth, to be sure - and did not want Adame's father there at all. Ichihime and Adame were both adults. They could do this themselves, thank you very much. Besides, _she_ was the Head of House now. If she told the Head of the Nikayui family that Adame needed to be escorted this evening by a frog with a bow tie, they would need to make it happen. Asking them to forego the parental involvement and tone down the noble trappings was not outside of her jurisdiction.

In hindsight, though, Ichihime had perhaps taken it a bit too far. Perhaps coming to this initial meeting straight from the office was unwise. At first, she told herself she didn't care - that she was doing this to prove that she should just exhaust her options so she could go back and beg Renji to forgive her. Now that she was here, though, she realized that it would have been better if she had taken this a bit more seriously. The last thing she needed was to shame her House by coming to a courtship proposal like a slob.

She was lost in quiet self-recrimination, but Adame didn't seem to be bothered by what he perceived as bashfulness. Either that, or he was clever enough to be smooth about it. Ichihime wasn't sure. "How about we order some appetizers?" he suggested. "I'm sure you're hungry, having to wait here with all these wonderful aromas."

"Sure." Honestly, she wasn't hungry, despite the wafting smell of food. As was befitting a meeting to discuss an arranged marriage between upper nobility, they were in a very expensive restaraunt; probably even too expensive for the Nikayui family. Ichihime thought the Nikayui family's suggestion to eat here was unnecessarily gracious, but Ichihime didn't want to offend them by recommending somewhere else. It could have been interpreted as a belief that the Nikayui family was inadequately prepared to take care of Ichihime as per her current comforts.

Which, of course, was preposterous. While Ichihime was filthy stinking rich, she had no use for money other than to make sure her relatively small House staff was properly compensated. It wasn't like she had a big family to support with the inheritance she received; and her income as a vice captain was more than adequate to pay for her basic personal expenses. The House of Banzo, once hundreds of members and cousins and children and grandchildren, had amassed all that wealth for Ichihime. All of it for Ichihime, the sole survivor outside the King's Realm, to spend alone. As one of Soul Society's four largest landowners, the income Ichihime made monthly on her rental properties alone was probably more than the Nikayui family made in an entire year. Even if you never met Banzo Ichihime and never learned of her disdain for luxury, to believe that she would be concerned over the continuation of her current comforts was absurd.

A waiter came over to their table at Adame's gesture, providing a menu to both of them. "_Oyasemi, Ue-sama._ How may I help you this evening?"

Ichihime ordered some rice tempura to start. She knew it was a pedestrian dish, but she liked simple food. Adame insisted that she try the negimaki, so he ordered that and then some sashimi for himself. "Would you like to order some sake?"

_Hell yes_, she thought. I want it on IV if I'm going to survive this. Despite her intense desire, though, Ichihime forced herself to decline graciously; and the waiter departed.

"So if you don't mind me asking, do you enjoy your career in the Gotei 13?"

"Yes, very much," Ichihime replied, her princess speech practiced and rehearsed.

"I have heard that you are a very dedicated lieutenant," Adame commented. "Urahara Kisuke speaks very highly of you."

Hey Shiji, remind me to kill that devious bastard of a captain when I get a chance. Kami only knows what he said about me. "You are close with Urahara Taicho?"

"No, not particularly; but he recently came to us to find out more about our production process. My father had inquired about you."

_Oh, look at that - a meddling father. Like you didn't have enough of those already, Hime-sama._

Oh _please_ not now, Shiji. Honest to God, I love your wisecracking dearly, but you're going to make me slip my princess speech. I can't afford that.

_Fair enough, Hime-sama. I shall remain quiet._

"Forgive my ignorance, Adame-san, but I regret to say that I know very little about the Nikayui family's industrial affairs." Ugh, what a ridiculous way to ask someone what they do for a living.

"No, please, forgive me; I forget that not everyone is as interested in our business affairs as we are," he said humorously. Ichihime noted that he was very much at ease; and she found his easygoing nature infectious. He had a relaxing, comforting aura about him. "We are one of the smithery families employed by the Gotei 13. We produce the various katana, wakizashi, tachi, kodachi, nodachi, tantos, jitte, ninjite, and other asauchi for Shinou Academy graduates each year. We also handle proper disposal and recycling of older weapons."

"Fascinating," Ichihime said sincerely. Ichihime doubted he knew that she was a master woodworker, a hobby she had pursued for over half a century by now. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing a Head of House would generally advertise - too many members of the elite aristocracy would love the opportunity to pin her with the plebian label of a carpenter. Not that Ichihime believed there was anything wrong with being a carpenter, of course; but she wasn't the one who established the feudal system of Sereitei so she had to play the silly dignity games. "Are you an actual smith, or do you only handle the business matters?"

"Both, actually. Well, sort of. I don't actually work on the smithing of the blades, but I do work on the production. I oversee the leather and cloth wrappings used on the hilts for most of the weapons."

"Do you like it?"

"I do, yes!" he said quite enthusiastically. "My brothers tease me that it's not very masculine to be more interested in sewing than the metalwork, but I find it honestly very therapeutic."

Ichihime laughed. "That's quite funny."

The food arrived, and they began to eat as they politely chatted about past culinary experiences, comparing tastes. It turned out that neither of them liked eel, while they both loved avocado.

"This negimaki is indeed delicious," Ichihime commented, impressed with herself that her princess speech was holding out. How long she could continue, she wasn't sure; but so far so good.

"See? I told you that you would enjoy it."

Ichihime smiled wide. She was surprised at how much of a good time she was having. Ichihime had honestly anticipated that she would be thinking about her miserable breakup with Renji and how awful it was - but instead of thinking about how much she missed his company, she was actually quite carefree at the moment. She had worried she would be constantly comparing Adame to Renji and vice versa, but no such thoughts had even entered her mind. Adame seemed very nice, and he was good at keeping the conversation easily afloat. The fact that he was extraordinarily handsome didn't hurt.

They finished their appetizers, and the waiter returned to clear their table and ask about entrees. Adame ordered something that sounded like chicken terayaki over a bed of lotus roots, Ichihime took a simple braised mooglefish in lemon-pepper sauce. The waiter departed, and Ichihime was beginning to wonder if maybe this wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

"Ichihime-sama, there is something I wanted to speak with you about."

Nevermind, Ichihime thought. Maybe I spoke too soon. "What is it, Adame-san?"

"I have a bit of a confession to make. My younger brother recommended against me meeting with you, and to be honest, I think he had good reason. From what I've heard, I am under the impression that Your Grace has been in a long-term relationship with one of the captains of the Gotei 13. My brother believed that it was perhaps... unwise for me to meet with you, seeing as you may still be emotionally invested elsewhere."

"So then, why did you agree to meet with me, Adame-san?" Ichihime asked, cautious but not willing to jump to conclusions.

Adame sighed. "The truth is, Banzo-no-kimi, that I am no stranger to complicated emotions. I love my mother, but I also resent her for having left us when I was young."

Ichihime was impressed that he was so forthcoming. Her experience with most other nobles was that family problems were kept in the family, and never uttered to those outside. His open honesty was refreshing. She began to question if she had come into this with prejudices of her own.

Thinking about it more, Ichihime wondered if Adame knew that Nikayui Shirani had been summoned into the Royal Guard. That was classified information in the Gotei 13, and usually only captains knew about it. Ichihime and Rukia were the only lieutenants who knew _anything_ about the Royal Guard at all, given that as members of the Four Houses, their families were so heavily intertwined with Division Zero. Although Rukia, who was not of the Noble Bloodline, would never be eligible for recruitment - so she wasn't officially in the know. As a result, she didn't know very much about the identities of the people in it. She didn't even know that her own grandfather, Kuchiki Ginrei, was the Spirit King.

Adame continued. "I am the sixth of seven brothers. While I have a good relationship with my youngest brother, he is patiently waiting for me to marry so that he can finally wed his love of many years. Furthermore, it is extraordinarily rare that someone from my family is given an opportunity to marry into the Four Houses, and so there is a lot of unspoken pressure resting on my shoulders. I may not be enamored with these archaic notions of what should define the responsibilities of Soul Society nobility, but I am in no position to run away from my obligations."

Ichihime wasn't sure where he was going at this point, although he scored points for the 'archaic notions' remark. "If I may comment, Nikayui-dono, but you seem to be rambling," she teased, hoping that she would appear flirtatious rather than critical.

"Perhaps," he chuckled. "I guess I am saying this: I can only imagine that you are feeling a somewhat similar pressure to rush into marriage. In fact, I suspect that you would have never made overtures to the Nikayui family had that not been the case. I want to be clear, though - I understand that the duties of nobility would suggest that we should simply marry without further question. This was the basis of my brother's advice against meeting in the first place, lest it lead us to a point where we are both unhappy."

He clenched his fists, and his jaw was firm. "But I am not willing to march blindly down the path that others have forced us down. If you permit me to be honest, Banzo-no-kimi, I do not want to marry you unless we both actually _want_ to, for our own sake."

Ichihime's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Are you saying, Nikayui-dono, that you wish only to marry for the sake of _love?_ That nothing else will suffice?"

He sighed and blushed, clearly embarassed. "Foolish, I know. Nobility is not supposed to entertain such frivolity. But that is who I am, and I cannot - and will not - change. But I agreed to meet with you anyway, because I know that in real life, relationships are not trivial affairs. And regardless of whatever circumstances you are in, I owe you the same right to have an opportunity to be as open and honest as I have. I'm sure you still have doubts and regrets about your previous relationship, and I need to be sensitive to that - so I agreed to meet with you. This way, at the very least, you would have a chance to decide that maybe now isn't a good time to think about marriage. And if that's the case, then I will have to accept it. If you ultimately decide to meet with me again, then it is for my even greater benefit; and if you ultimately decide to return to your previous companion, then it was never going to be to my benefit, anyway.

"So I disregarded my brother's advice, and I find myself here, making substantially much more of a fool of myself before Your Eminent Grace than I had initially expected," he laughed meekly, unable to read her blank stare. "But I thought that would be better than both of us pretending that we were completely free from anxiety over this."

"Is there anything else, Adame-san?" Ichihime asked, her voice quiet and unsteady.

"No, Your Eminent Grace," he answered, a bit shamefaced.

Ichihime reached across the table for his collar, pulled him towards her, and planted a deep, satisfying kiss on his mouth. She spared no hint nor used any sort of subtlety. She didn't give one rat's ass that everyone saw her making out in public and how inappropriate that might be for a Head of House. Right now, she didn't care about anything other than the fact that she was kissing him.

"Please, Adame-san - 'Ichihime' really is fine," she whispered, letting him go. He just looked at her, completely dumbstruck for a minute - but finally nodded with a smile and breathed a sigh of relief.

No, Ichihime thought. This really wasn't a bad idea at all.

-:-

Rantao entered Kyoraku Shunsui's office with the intention of thanking him for dinner the night before. It had been her first social opportunity in a while, and Shunsui had been a perfect gentleman despite the many warnings she received about his philandering tendencies. She had expected to find him and Ukitake's wife Kiyone (Kiku couldn't remember the 8th division lieutenant's maiden name) in the office, but she realized after-the-fact that perhaps it would have been wiser to knock before she opened the door. Shunsui was sitting at his desk. The vice captain wasn't there, but someone else was.

Had Rantao not been so adept at putting her foot in her mouth faster than the speed of light, she would have remembered that despite being a generation younger and Shunsui's daughter, Ise Nanao was one of the highest ranking members in the military. Suffice it to say, Rantao had spent too many years amongst a tight group of shinigami who had grown to be casual over the years, and military protocol had been a bit lax there. If she had been a bit more used to formalities, it would have prevented her from saying something _spectacularly_ stupid. "Ise-shosho? What are you doing in a sailor fuku?"

The dark-haired, bespectaled woman stood to her full height, and Rantao instantly realized that she was too tall to be the Head of the Kido Corps. This woman was the same height as Rantao, and Ise was definitely a few inches shorter than Rantao was. "_Ise_-shosho? Ise _Nanao_?" the woman asked with a sneer. The woman then turned back to Shunsui, yelling at him. "Nanao-chan is a _general_? You mean you didn't tell me?" True to form, she punched him in the forehead hard enough to knock him - and his chair - backwards on to the floor.

"Ah, Rantao-san," Kyoraku spoke lazily from the floor, seemingly unfazed. "Allow me to introduce you to Lisa-chan, who was my vice captain before Nanao-chan."

"Nice to meet you," Kiku extended her hand as per American customs, forgetting that Soul Society was more accustomed to Japanese traditions. "I've always wanted to meet Ise-san's mother."

Lisa glared at her with a dark, brooding, harsh stare. "Ise-san's... _mother_?" She then gave Kyoraku a violent kick in the side. "What the hell have you been telling people? You _asshole!_"

Rantao sweated uncomfortably. "Uh, I'm sorry, I just assumed... uh, given the resemblance," she backtracked. "I didn't mean to offend you." _Dear god, I suck. I am such a loser._

"Yare yare, Lisa-chan, is it so bad to be mistaken for Nanao-chan's mother, ne?" Kyoraku asked casually as he tried to get up from the floor. I mean, _really,_ he thought. She's just like you. The violence and vindictive temperament are _exactly_ the same.

Lisa kicked him down again. She was furious with him. The Winter War had been ten years ago. He had made no effort to get back in touch with her after he found out she had been alive after all these years. He hadn't even thought to send a postcard telling her about Nanao's promotion, whatever it was - and _that_ was unforgivable. _"Shut up!"_

"Why don't I, uh, just come back later...?" Kiku asked nervously.

"No, nevermind, I was _just_ leaving," Lisa spat. Turning to face Rantao, she added, "I hope he treats you better than he treated me." Rantao winced as the door slammed behind her with enough force to shake the entire 8th division office.

Shunsui got to his feet. "Yare, Rantao-san. I'm sorry you had to meet Lisa-chan like that."

Kiku excused herself. "Um, yeah. You know what, Kyouraku-san - uh, I'm sorry, but I forgot about some paperwork that Urahara Taicho left for me. I'll, uh, catch you later, okay?"

Kyoraku Shunsui sighed. He saw right through her, but let it go. "Perhaps after work, then?"

Rantao should have said no, but she was honestly too meek to assert herself. "Yeah, sure; whatever, that's fine." Eager to get out of yet-another-awkward situation that she created, she left the office in a hurry.

-:-

Nanao was seriously beginning to regret her decision. "Fuwu-san," she began patiently, "this is _not_ the same as the Kuchiki-Shiba wedding."

Of course, the moment Nanao heard from Isane that she was getting married, the first thing out her mouth (after congratulations) was an offer to help Isane plan the wedding; considering that Nanao had a talent for these things. Not surprisingly, Isane accepted with a thousand thank-yous.

Word got around fast, because the very next morning Nanao's vice captain was begging her to let him help plan the wedding. She reluctantly accepted, knowing that Fuwu was little good for anything other than mindless paperwork. He was too fat to go on missions, anyway.

"Of course not, Shosho-sama! But do you think Kotetsu-san would go for the silver plate covers, or do you think she would simply prefer the crystal ones?"

"Fuwu-san, for the umpteenth time: this is not a noble's affair," she said, completely exasperated. "This is a humble gathering of ordinary shinigami with ordinary budgets. Plate covers are an unnecessary expense and would be considered way too lavish to be tasteful for such a small wedding of the common folk."

_Just stab him already!_

Shut up, Saya. If I listened to you every time you asked me to stab Fuwu, he would have more holes than a plague beggar fed to a hungry shark with a mouth full of porcupines.

_Hey, I remember that! That was a long time ago, back before you were a Handoshi general, I think. You got a commendation for dreaming up that punishment, didn't you?_

SHUT UP! Nanao screamed back telepathically, flicking the crossguard of her weapon with her finger.

_Ouch! That hurt! _Saya said, clutching her face in Nanao's inner world._ If you're gonna spank me, at least do it on my ass where I like it!_

Enough of you, Nanao threatened, or the next time I buy a watermelon I'm not giving you any.

Saya sighed. She hated the vegan diet, but fresh fruit was one of the highlights. _I still want to stab him, though. C'mon, don't you?_

If I promise to give you some cabernet, will you be quiet already? Nanao begged.

_Deal!_

Good, now SHUT. UP.

_Yes, Brigadier General, sir!_

Nanao turned her attention back to her vice captain, whose brow was knitted in the most ridiculously fairy-fluttered, I'm-a-giant-pixie-with-a-mustache-who-just-got-his-wings-pulled-off expression of disappointment. "Shosho-sama, do you think the fifty year-old Higurashi single-malt sake is a bit much, then? Maybe we should just go with the blended thirty?"

"By the iron gates of Purgatory, Fuwu-san - neither Isane-san nor Yamada-san would know the difference between a ten-year-old bottle of whiskey and a barrel of rubbing alcohol! Now unless you want me to drown you in a bucket of either one, can you please stick to the budget?"

Fuwu frowned. Enormous globs of fat (that were theoretically identified as his chin) bobbed up and down in a fashion that Nanao found deeply disturbing. "Oh, alright. So how many bridesmaid's dresses should we order again?"

"Two," Nanao answered curtly. She had answered this particular question several times now. Kiyone and Nanao were the lucky guests of honor; with Unohana Taicho officiating.

"And do we order them from Mendoza & Sons, or should we go with Keita-Kurona?"

Nanao seethed. Those were the two most expensive tailors in Sereitei. _"Neither."_

"But-"

"Fuwu-san, you have twenty seconds to get lost. Otherwise, I'm going to practice some of my experimental bahudo on you."

The blob of congealed flesh became a blob of congealed sweat. "Uh, I thought your branch of recent kido theory was called 'bahido', Shosho-sama."

"Correct, that is bahido. 'Bahudo' is about what happens when you combine the darkest arts of hado with medical kido to induce unique kinds of pain on people."

"Ah," he laughed nervously. "And when did you, ah, begin to formulate the ideas behind this new branch of kido, Shosho-sama?"

_"In the past three minutes,"_ Nanao said, glaring at him.

Fuwu gulped. "Ah, yes, then, uh, well, I'll leave you to your studies, then."

Nanao breathed a sigh of relief as Fuwu made a quick exit.

_See, I told you that you should have just stabbed him._

Nanao flicked her zanpakutou, hard. "No wine for you," she spat.

_Aw, nuts! And I was so good!_

Behave, and maybe I'll give you some strawberries.

Saya sighed. _Okay... but could I at least get some tomato juice?_

Nanao gave the telepathic equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

_Hey, if I can't have the real thing, at least let me be nostalgic, alright?_

You're really creepy, you know that?

_Hey, you like it in the bottom. I just like an actual Bloody Mary every now and then. We all have our deviant tastes._

Nanao flicked her zanpakutou again. No strawberries for you, and definitely no juice!

_But Siisssteeerrr-!_

Whine at me, and Kazeshini is going to bitch and moan that I locked you in a drawer for the night.

_No! No! Please, I promise, I'll be good! I promise, really!_

Nanao smiled triumphantly. She had to admit that she knew herself well. The threat of lost sex worked every time.

-:-

Kiku ran back to her division office, hoping to get in front of a computer. At least Rantao Kiku knew how to talk to computers without making a fool out of herself. She opened the door, only to have her captain crash right into her. Kiku fell back onto her butt, sullying her lab coat. Now all she felt like was crying.

"Sorry, Rantao-san," Urahara apologized, helping her up. "Emergency captain's meeting, I'm in a bit of a hurry. Can you go through the expense reports on my desk? This meeting is going to take a while."

"Yeah, sure," she offered. Kiku was at least relieved that she had paperwork to do, so that when Shunsui came for her later, she wouldn't have to be caught lying to him. Because yes, she really was that pathetic.

-:-

_Three months ago_

Naji Futama punched in the codes into the inbound senkai gate. "Welcome back, Sasakibe Fukutaicho."

The grey-haired, mustached man looked at him with a relatively bored stare. "Thank you," he replied flatly, and then began walking back to the 1st division compound.

-:-

_Back to the present_

_"Ragnarok! ?"_ Kuukaku exclaimed. "No way, that's crazy."

Even in the most formal of settings, Byakuya's wife never seemed to be able to shake her Rukongai habits. Byakuya sighed, which earned him an elbow from her. He loved his second wife like she was a divine treasure given to an undeserving man, but there were times when he wished she was a captain of a division _other_ than the 5th; only because that way she wouldn't be in position to poke and prod him during captain's meetings.

Unohana spoke softly. "From Kurosaki Taicho's secondhand description, it does indeed seem to be the sword of Ho Shin Yang."

"Yama-jii, how does that work? I thought old Yang-jii kicked the bucket a while ago."

Yamamoto nodded. "His grave is in the 1st division compound."

Jushiro turned to Urahara next to him. "I thought a zanpakutou dies when its owner dies...?"

Nanao, who was standing next to the Soutaicho, interrupted while glancing at both Yamamoto and Kyoraku. "...I would say that there are known cases where zanapakutou have outlived their master's lifetimes."

Hitsugaya drew his sword as if to supply the evidence. "I agree. Here's an example."

Renji, who was one of the younger captains, mused out loud. "That's right. Hyorinmaru is a special case of where the zanpakutou chose the wielder, not the other way around. How many blades are like that?"

Urahara aired himself with that stupid fan of his, attempting to look mysterious while sounding cheeky. "Well, I know that it's not a completely unheard of phenomena, but I'll have to look in the files. Obviously, we can check the zanpakutou registers and look for patterns."

"Zanpakutou registers?" Yumichika asked, puzzled.

Soifon rolled her eyes. "What would the registers tell us? Alpha, beta, gamma, delta? Why is that information important?"

Ichigo was confused. "Um, could someone explain?"

Zaraki grumbled. "Thanks, kid. If Urahara starts yapping, we're not getting out of here until tomorrow."

Yamamoto slammed his staff on the floor in annoyance. When things had quieted down, he spoke. "Urahara Taicho, could you explain how the zanpakutou registers are going to help your research? We normally keep those as classified information."

"Well, as most of us know, all personnel files document a shinigami's zanpakutou, which belong to a general classification. Alpha zanpakutou is the category of melee-oriented blades, the most common type. The beta category represents the kido-based zanpakutou, and is the second largest category. Gamma weapons are those that have little effect on the weapon but have some intrinsic benefit for the wielder, such as enhanced speed or endurance; this category is relatively uncommon. Delta blades are where we throw in anything that can't be categorized."

"I don't understand," Komamura asked. "None of this information is classified. We all know about our officers' zanpakutou classifications; even most of ours are fairly obvious."

"Ah, but those are just the basic categories," Urahara continued. "There are several additional registrations that are less commonly reviewed. For example; the omicron label identifies all of the zanpakutou wielded by the various spirit kings throughout history. Zanpakutou that have belonged to those who have achieved shikai are recorded in the eta files; bankai users' zanpakutou are listed in the theta records. Some of the registrations, such as the aforementioned omicron register and those with sigma or omega status, are classified."

"And this interests us because...?" Soifon asked, trying as hard as possible to sound annoyed with him. It didn't take much convincing.

"Sigma zanpakutou, like Hyorinmaru, are extremely rare. They are agents of Fate that were supposedly used to construct the universe itself, and are completely sentient beings that exist within their own cycle of life. In many ways, they are comparable to the little we know about zotokai. They are nearly almost always classified in the beta category of kido zanpakutou as well, and we are fortunate enough to have two of them amongst the Gotei 13," Uraraha explained, gesturing to both Hitsugaya and Yamamoto. "The reason for keeping quiet about sigma zanpakutou is that we don't want others to know which zanpakutou are capable of outliving their masters."

"Are you suggesting that Ragnarok was a sigma zanpakutou?" Ukitake asked.

"I'd have to check the register, but it's highly unlikely. On the other hand, Ragnarok was almost certainly classified as an omega weapon, though."

"Which is...?" Soifon asked, impatient.

Nanao interrupted. "Zanpakutou with powers that are so easily abused that we are likely better off without them. It was not unheard of in centuries past for their wielders to be executed for minor infractions, just to prevent them from turning against the Gotei 13."

"Isn't that a bit harsh?" Ichigo asked.

Hitsugaya answered with a bitter taste in his mouth, thinking of his only family in Soul Society: his sister, Hinamori Momo. "I'm willing to bet Aizen's Kyouka Suigetsu was classified as an omega weapon - why didn't we execute him for the sake of his sword once we knew about it?"

Ukitake spoke up quickly - it was evident he felt passionate about this subject. "If we killed everyone with an omega blade, we would be doing a great disservice to the Gotei 13. Many of our greatest shinigami, ones who were stirling examples of the best qualities of humanity, had omega zanpakutou."

Nanao made a mental note that the captain of the 5th didn't seem to catch Jushiro's point of reference.

Soifon snorted. "Are you serious? You mean we could have hung Aizen on a _technicality _and avoided the Winter War altogether? How come us captains were not made aware of this? Because we were afraid of executing Aizen _by mistake_?"

"Precisely why the information is classified," Byakuya retorted. He never liked the sour leader of the Onmitsukido; she had always grated him the wrong way. "It is not for us to decide. Hindsight distorts the vision of the present."

"Of course, of course," Urahara agreed. "My own fukutaicho has an omega zanpakutou."

Soifon snorted again. "Tch, Byakuya-san. Having kids made you soft."

Yamamoto smacked his staff against the floor. "That's enough, Soifon Taicho," he glowered. He could see both Byakuya and Kuukaku seething down the line, and Yamamoto was loathe to have his division heads angered at each other when a clearly organized threat had found access to one of the most powerful zanpakutou in existence. "Urahara Taicho, please continue," he urged, glaring at anyone who seemed to forget the focus of the meeting. "Are there any other classifications you think would be important to share with the group?"

"I'm not sure," Urahara began. "As far as I know, only sigma zanpakutou remain after their owners die, but even then, they recede to their other world and lie dormant, leaving behind the lifeless blade. Off the top of my head, I don't know of any other zanpakutou that outlive their owners. Well, actually, now that I think about it, there is the extreme possibility of a chi blade, of course; but I doubt it."

"What's a 'chi blade'?" Ichigo asked.

Zaraki rolled his eyes. "Oh, great. Thanks, kid. Now we're really going to have listen to his fifteen-hour science lesson."

Urahara ignored the peanut gallery. "Let's see, how to explain this... okay, well, let's put it this way. First, a bit of a lesson on spirit owners."

Zaraki shook his head, and Soifon rolled her eyes with an inaudible grumble. Kuukaku gave Urahara a skeptical glare.

"A plus is commonly thought of as a soul, but there is a difference. A soul is 'owned' by the real world - it is either still attached to a living human's body; or its human life is dead, and it needs to move on to Soul Society. In most cases, the soul finds its own way. In many cases, shinigami send the soul on using konso; usually a preventative measure to keep the soul from becoming a hollow. The last way, of course, is when a soul becomes a hollow, and then a shinigami purifies it by killing it, such as with a zanpakutou or with kido."

Nanao interrupted. "There are other beings besides shinigami that can purify hollows as well," she said pointedly.

"Yes," Urahara clarified on a tangent. "Kurosaki Taicho's unofficial 4th Seat, Sado Yasutora, for example. He can purify hollows with his own hollow-based energy, and a vaizard's cero will oddly enough also purify a hollow. Although hollow-based energies usually absorb hollows rather than purify them, these are some of the known cases where purification is possible. We tend to think that intent may play a large part of whether or not hollow-based attacks can purify a soul or not. In any case, the truth is, hollow purification is not exclusive to shinigami, although the exceptions represent a very negligible set of cases."

"On with it," Zaraki sneered. "If this goes on forever, Yachiru is eventually going to find where I hid the candy."

Kisuke gulped. He had the unfortunate experience of having the pink-haired terror storm his laboratory once on a sugar high. Never again. "Uh, yes, indeed. Where was I? Ahah. Okay," he said, breathing again. "A _plus_ is a soul that is 'owned' by the realm of Soul Society, either because it came here on its own, or because it was sent here through some means. When a plus dies, it becomes a soul; being reborn in the land of the living. Unlike souls, which can linger in the land of the living, all plusses end up going back to Earth when they die -"

"Not entirely true," Nanao interjected. "Some go to Hell."

"Well, yes, I stand corrected. It is possible for a plus to take a detour in Hell when it leaves Soul Society," Urahara acknowledged. "But, in any case: the ownership is important. For example, it explains why a shinigami who dies in the World of the Living is born there as a human; or if a human who may have come to Soul Society passes away, why they would materialize in Soul Society rather than be reincarnated on Earth.

"While Kurosaki Taicho and Kurosaki Fukutaicho are examples of _souls_ who have become shinigami, it is exceptionally rare. Zanpakutou born from souls are generally the same as those born from plusses, with the exception that the zanpakutou emerges from the soul itself. To clarify using an example, when Kurosaki Karin was first found to be a shinigami, her shinigami soul was pushed out of her human body and it already had a pair of swords with it. The living soul somehow manifests the physical zanpakutou all by itself. Exactly how this happens and why, we're not precisely sure; but this is well-established fact.

"When a _plus_ becomes a shinigami, however, they must first acquire for themselves a vessel to own and retain their zanpakutou spirit. In Shinou Academy, graduates are given an ausachi; a simple, plain blade of their desired length which has no reishi. They are all manufactured here in Sereitei, in fact. As the individual's ribbon turns from white to red - the real test of whether or not someone is a shinigami - their blade begins to take on the characteristics reflective of its owner, such as a change in color or adjustments to the shape of the crossguard, and other subtle characteristics of design. It can even go as far as changing the physical materials from one kind to another. These are all indications that the shinigami's spirit has begun to reside in the weapon."

"So hold on a minute," Renji interrupted. "What happens if the plus doesn't have a sword to channel their zanpakutou spirit into?"

"They can't become a shinigami. The result, however, is usually a plus with a very strong spiritual pressure. However, in many cases, even plusses with strong spiritual pressures never truly figure out how to infuse a weapon. They may even learn kido or shunpo and still never be able to properly manifest a zanpakutou."

Zaraki looked contemplative for a moment, then unsheathed his nameless sword. "So you're saying this old thing I got on my own in the Rukongai gets some special status just because I didn't get it from the academy?"

"No, no," Urahara smiled cheerily, internally begging that the pugnacious, already-annoyed, hulking 11th division captain next to him would put his weapon away. "But it is an example of how zanpakutou born from plusses - most zanpakutou, in fact - undergo an incubation period."

"Hmm," Zaraki acknowledged, and resheathed his sword.

"So what are you saying then?" Soifon blurted out, obviously irritated.

"Well, I'm getting to that," Urahara frowned. "When a _soul_ dies, they leave behind their human body as they pass into Soul Society. When a _plus_ dies, they leave behind their spirit body, and their essence passes into the Land of the Living. When a _shinigami_ dies, the fragment of their soul that was imbued into their zanpakutou dies as well. In the case of _soul_-born shinigami such as the Kurosakis, the zanpakutou simply disappear. However, in the case of _plus_-born zanpakutou, the blade becomes a dead, spiritless weapon; left behind the same way a spirit body is when the spirit essence leaves."

Shunsui instantly figured it out. "So what happens when a new shinigami, instead of using a brand new sword for a zanpakutou, uses a dead sword, one that had already once been alive?"

"Kyoraku Taicho has a sharp mind," Kisuke smiled cheerily. "That is indeed where I was going. So, there is a saying. 'Life changes us. Death changes us.' It is not merely a profound philosophical statement - it is of scientific value as well. It helps to explain a very important phenomena. Imagine that a plus-born shinigami dies, then dies in the land of the living and returns to Soul Society as a plus. It is essentially the same soul essence, and presumably that plus becomes a shinigami all over again. Wouldn't they theoretically have the same zanpakutou as before?"

"No," interruped Ichigo, removing Zangetsu from his back and showing it to the other captains. "Because life changes us, and death changes us. That explains why I have Zangetsu instead of Nejibana."

The captains all began to nod, finally beginning to understand what Urahara was talking about. Urahara continued. "However, let us assume that for some reason, the shinigami had a peculiarly strong personality. One that would not be so easily changed. In that event, life nor death have a profound effect on him or her. Let's make another assumption - that this shinigami finds his or her old, dead blade, and re-infuses it with his or her zanpakutou spirit. Thus, the zanpakutou is reincarnated as well, and is now alive again: behold, we have a chi blade."

"Wait a minute," Hitsugaya shook his head. "Are you saying that Ho Shin Yang was reincarnated in the World of the Living, _died_, came_ back_ to Soul Society, and _now_ Ragnarok is _reborn_?" he asked, incredulous. "If that happened, we should be able to find him - it would mean that Ho Shin Yang would have to be identical to who he was before he died, and someone with _that_ level of spiritual pressue should be pretty easy to find. I can't imagine that's what actually happened."

Unohana decided to speak at that moment. "Urahara-san, I've known about the science of chi blades for a while now, but what you describe - while academically correct - is so improbable that it is beyond discussion. The scenario you described was based on the assumption that the shinigami returns completely unaffected by their death as a shingami, their life as a human, their death as a human, and then their life as a plus. That is a fairly loaded assumption. Any single event could happen over the course of potentially a hundred or more years could change the soul essence enough that the dead weapon would no longer recognize its original owner, and it would remain dead forever."

"Absolutely, Unohana-san, and I'm glad you mentioned that. Indeed, chi blades are an academic discussion. We can scientifically prove that it can happen, but we have never seen it occur because the variables are never remotely close to being that neat. That's why I never thought to mention it at first," he explained in summary.

"Let me guess," Kuukaku began, cutting off Kyoraku, who looked like he wanted to say something. "You could have made this entire discussion last fifteen seconds by getting straight to the point. Chi blades happen when some new shinimgami tries to infuse someone else's dead zanpakutou instead of an ausachi."

Urahara frowned. "Um, yeah."

Soifon nearly exploded at that point but restrained herself. Zaraki chuckled to himself, knowing that some things never change.

Urahara, whose mind sometimes moved too fast for him to pick up on social cues, continued: "What actually happens more often are imperfect chi blades."

_"You mean there's more?"_ Soifon sneered. "You're getting to a point, right?" She looked she was going to pummel him. Actually, she looked like she was going to do more than just pummel him.

"I imagine this happens frequently amongst the noble houses," Byakuya noted, interrupting for a moment. "Ancestral weapons are a great source of pride for many families, and they often pass them down the generations. Although it is not done in the House of Kuchiki, it is conceivable that families would have a tradition of using the same vessel for their zanpakutou spirit throughout the generations. The idea of a reused zanpakutou is not so hard to imagine."

"So what is the end result?" Komamura asked. "Why are these 'imperfect' chi blades different than their academic 'perfect' counterparts?"

"Well, a shinigami would be trying to awaken a blade that has a different residual spiritual DNA; effectively reviving the former blade to a certain extent."

"Would it be sentient?" Komamura asked.

"Yes, but not in the way you would expect."

"Can't you explain yourself all at once?" Soifon shouted at him in frustration.

"My, my, so impatient today," Urahara teased, which earned him a glare from the diminutive leader of the Covert Ops that should have turned him to stone.

Renji thought of Banzo Tanabi's grave, which Ichihime had shown him once. "You still haven't explained about how this works - what, is there some sort of conflict between the new and old shinigami's spirit particles in the dead weapon?"

Urahara gave an iffy gesture. "The outcomes are dependent on the personality of the new wielder. If the new shinigami is particularly strong-willed, they can overwrite the old traces of the zanpakutou. However, in most cases, the zanpakutou's old style and inclinations begin to affect the incoming spirit, which is still young and impressionable at this time. This new spirit even awakens the remnant DNA of the sword's previous lifetime."

"So what's the big deal?" Soifon spat. "So the shinigami has a zanpakutou with multiple personality disorder. How does that make it worth noting?"

"That's a bad analogy, Soifon Taicho," Urahara retorted snarkily. "An imperfect chi blade now posesses a weak-willed fragment of a plus, and the unable-to-escape fragment of another lifetime's soul essence, and-"

"Holy _fucking shit_," Ichigo swore out loud, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You've got a vaizard blade - the damn thing has both a plus and a hollow in it!"

"Of course it would be our vaizard captain that figured it out," Urahara laughed. "And when the shinigami wielder isn't assertive enough during the infusion process- - -"

"-the zanpakutou's inner hollow devours the blade's plus fragment, rejecting the owner and leaving it hungry with a destructive appetite for souls!" Ichigo thought out loud.

_That_ got everyone's attention, and an eery silence with shocked expressions spread the room.

"Ah, yes, you could put it that way," Urahara finished, disappointed that Ichigo stole his thunder. "And a chi blade with the capabilities of one like the 'Demon Blade' Ragnarok is an unimaginable threat."

Yamamoto chose this moment to speak. "Then what we have is indeed a very, very dangerous adversary."

"Ne, Yama-jii," Kyoraku said. "Who could have supplied them with a super-dangerous dead weapon like that?"

Byakuya tried to make sense of the whole mess. "I still do not understand how looking at the zanpakutou registers would help. Even if we had hundreds of chi blades on file - and from Unohana-san's observations and your own admittance, it is unlikely we will find more than a handful of documented cases - that means nothing. If these adversaries - and we still do not yet know whether or not whether today's events were a single party, or multiple interests that may or may not be in collusion - have found a way to acquire deceased zanpakutou, then it does not matter what classification they were. They can be used against us; whether or not they were previously awakened."

"Well, actually, there are indeed a number of imperfect chi cases over the years. Most of the famous swords ever known to mankind were likely imperfect chis. Using an existing chi blade would be easier than making a new one; you would require a subject willing to potentially submit themselves to the will of a hollow-infused blade."

"Wait, hold on a second," Ichigo interrupted. "Famous swords? You mean, like, Excalibur?"

The entire room simultaneously groaned. Even the Soutaicho was shaking his head, and the unflappable Unohana was going facepalm. "Did I... say something?" Ichigo eeked out awkwardly.

_"Most unbelievable shinigami disaster of all time,"_ Ukitake explained.

"Um... what happened?" Ichigo bumbled.

Renji gave him a dismissive gesture. "I'll explain later."

"Don't forget the part about ol' Yoda Chu," Urahara suggested to Renji, and then muttered "Baka" afterwards. The suggestion was met with another collective groan amidst a few "_please don't_" and "_not now_" comments coming from the crowd.

Ichigo stammered. "Did you just say-"

"Yes, he said 'Yoda Chewbacca', now give it a rest," gruffed Soifon. "Are we done here?"

At that moment, an unusually haggard-looking Sasakibe swung the doors to the captain's chamber wide open, running forward into a kneeling position. "High-level adjuchas have slaughtered Jidanbo and are storming the western gate. The 11th is headed there now - _Sereitei is under attack!_"

* * *

_Extra points to those of you who understood all of the subtleties from Nanao's point of view. **Reviews,** please! Next chapter: The onslaught continues - plus, HitsuKarin! Don't miss it!_


	12. Don't Ever Leave Me

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_"Battle is rarely glorious, romantic, protracted, or heroic. No - it is nearly always an anticlimactic prelude to despair; over in a blink of an eye, with the victor winning nothing of meaningful value."  
~Kira Izuru, ten years ago_

_"Battle is rarely glorious, romantic, __protracted, _or heroic. No - it is nearly always an anticlimactic prelude to despair; over in a blink of an eye, with the victor winning nothing of meaningful value."  
~Hinamori Momo, ten years from now

* * *

Ikkaku was the first to arrive, finding two class-S adjuchas crossing the threshold of the Sereitei walls. He could tell they were class-S because their physical traits were remarkably similar to a human's; they even had six-fingered hands with real fingernails and wore loincloths. Clothing was always indicative of an upper-level adjuchas, since it was a sign of self-awareness. These particular hollow were a pale pink and pale blue, although both seemed distinctly male. The blue one had a long, reptilian tail that was barbed along the ridge; and unlike its counterpart, the pink one had horns protruding from the top of its oval mask. Both of them had their entire faces covered by masks, which made Ikkaku a bit cocky. They weren't arrancar, so they couldn't be _that_ tough.

Although, for some reason, they both carried highly unique swords. The blue one held a short gladiator sword with a small, shallow, U-shaped hand guard that was decorated with jewels. It had a weird pommel - two fancy spirals protruded from the base. The blade was almost shaped like an oval, where it was as wide at the top as it was at the base, but curved inwards slightly in between. Most unusual was that it didn't appear to have a particularly sharp point. It seemed vaguely familiar from a movie he had once seen, but Ikkaku couldn't really recall.

The pink hollow held the most bizarre sword Ikkaku had ever seen. It looked like the blade was more well suited for the tip of a lance - it was a spiral-bladed, conical shape with blue markings that made it look like someone molded the metal blade using a corkscrew. It ended with a somewhat traditional cup-handguard typically found on rapiers. That would make sense if the the weapon was used in a stabbing fashion, although the handle was clearly too large for it to be a one-handed weapon. Ikkaku was sure the sword couldn't cut squat if used in a slashing fashion.

_"Ora ora,"_ he sneered. "Did you guys go rummaging around in a bad props store?"

The adjuchas both came at him at the same time with a pincer attack. Ikkaku used his katana to block the gladiator sword, and his sheath to hold off the corkscrew. Caught in between, he didn't have the opportunity to go on the offense, blocking shots from both in front and behind as the two swiped high and low. Ikkaku was surprised by how brutally strong these hollow were. If it weren't for the fact that he was blocking them on opposite sides of his body, the pushback from the deflected blows would have knocked him at least ten feet. These were not your run-of-the-mill adjuchas, that was for sure.

He was managing fine until the blue one's tail snapped out and lashed him in the ankles, knocking him flat on his ass. The pink one stabbed down into his shoulder, the spiral blade plunging right through like he was made out of tissue paper, lodging itself deep in the ground below. Because of its ridged corkscrew-like shape, pulling it out would do incredible damage, so Ikkaku was dead meat.

The blue one stepped on Ikkaku's sword hand and then cocked his blade, ready to deliver the final blow. "Goodbye, shinigami!"

If not for a familiar laughing cry, Ikkaku would have been reciting his own last rites. _"Haha! Goodbye, bonehead!" _Yachiru chirped as she bounded into the fight.

Ikkaku scrunched his eyes shut to keep the ash and dust of the exploded blue hollow out of his face. When the dust settled, he opened his eyes to see the pink monster doing battle with the _other _pink monster - his vice captain. "Well I'll be damned," he said, wincing from the pain of his own speech. Seeing Yachiru's sword was not something you saw just any day of the year.

Yachiru had her katana out - it was practically as big as she was - and was bouncing everywhere, cutting the hollow in a thousand places as it tried to follow the bouncing ball - er, shinigami. Yachiru bounded left, slicing the hollow's calf muscle, then right to stab him in the armpit, then down in the metatarsal and up into the ribs.

The pink adjuchas, whose sword was still stuck in Ikkaku's shoulder, jumped out of the way and seized the fallen gladiator sword that had landed close to Ikkaku. Yachiru came leaping after him, full of giggles. "C'mon! You can't run away now, we just started!"

Seizing its companion's sword, Ikkaku could see that Pink had some pretty hefty regenerative capabilities. Almost all of the cuts, scratches, and even deep stab wounds that Yachiru had landed had already sealed up, and the beast came back with a vengeance - swinging the short sword hard and fast, stomping on Ikkaku's stomach in the process and kicking him in the head.

Yachiru tried to force the monster away from Ikkaku, but was having trouble because she couldn't freely strike without fear of hitting her subordinate. Ikkaku stared up at the battle, blood seeping out of the immense wound in his upper right chest. Yachiru was wicked fast and hard to hit since she was so small, and her sword had a slightly longer reach than the short gladiatorial one. Ikkaku began to try to dislodge the sword from his chest, but when it budged even less than a millimeter, the pain was so brain-shockingly jarring that he blacked out for a second, returning moments later to only a semiconscious state.

In a pain-induced haze, Ikkaku tangentially wondered why Yachiru hadn't grown at all over the past century - I mean, she had to be at least one-hundred and ten years old, which theoretically would have made her at _least_ a teenager on the verge of becoming a woman, if not older. She was far older than Hinamori Fukutaicho, for shit's sake. I mean, she's gotta have boobs by now, doesn't she? he thought to himself.

"Stay with me, Baldy!" Yachiru shouted, trying to keep him from fading out - but Ikkaku was finding himself rather sleepy, and his vision was beginning to blur. It was much easier to close his eyes so he wouldn't have to worry about it.

"Baldy, c'mon! _Stay here!_" Yachiru shouted again, but the distraction cost her. The hollow stabbed her clean in the gut, and then kicked her in the head to push her off the blade. Yachiru stumbled back, coughing up blood, and then spat out some more and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

Her eyes turned into a fierce, hardened glare. Her pink reiatsu flared with the burst of a giant, angry cat; and the monster braced itself. "Let's play, Sukoshitora!" Yachiru called out. Her blade shrank a few inches and pink stripes began to wind around the blade.

"Shikai?" the monster spoke wryly. "If we must... _Hrunting, engulf!_"

-:-

_Twenty-six years ago_

After ten years, you finally notice me. It is sad and happy and wondrous and tragic all at once. You are so much the same, although I am not surprised. Of course you would be.

But as you see me - perhaps for the first time, I've really never been sure - I wonder why you have that look on your face. Trevor, why are you scared? There's nothing to be scared of, don't worry. I'm here. I've been here all along. Surely you know that? Surely you could have felt it?

He gives me that funny twist of his chin. "You..."

"Yes," I answer. I am that one, the one who has been with you all this time. Just like your brother wanted. So that I could learn. So that maybe you could learn. So that maybe we would both learn. Because I remember. I remember what it was like to be alone.

He cocks his head, his almost pure-blooded soul reflected in those bright, blue eyes of infathomable depth. I know of his genius; his intense calculating mind; his ability to deduce truth with an introspection on the uppermost cusp of mortal comprehension. He is not of average mankind; he is evolved. He sees that which others do not.

Trevor turns away and walks off. I'm not sure why he does, but it breaks my heart in a thousand pieces. Don't walk away from me! I can't bear it! I chase after him. He needs me right now. I can't let him wander off alone. He'll never figure out what to do - but I can feel his anguish; his sorrow. His trouble, his confusion. It is a lot for me to receive all at once, but I can deduce it. It's all right there; deep inside that closed soul of his.

He turns to face me when he realizes that I'm following him. He gives me that intense glare, and he fidgets with his hands. He does that a lot. I can tell that he's looking into my soul; that piercing look. That look that tells me he sees things. That he sees things that only Kami-sama wants him to see. Things that no normal man sees. It's silly, I know - but Jen always told me that he must be a prophet of some kind. I believe her, of course. I believe everything Jen tells me. If I didn't, I would be pretty stupid. Duh.

His hands fidget endlessly, and I suddenly realize that he is actually _speaking_ to me - American Sign Language. I don't think I've ever seen him do that before - I didn't even know he spoke sign language. Considering I've been spying on him for four years now, you would think I'd know that. [You're going to keep me company here, right?]

I give him a blank look. _C'mon,_ Trevor. You're _not_ an idiot. What do you think?

[Don't ever leave me,] he says with a wry smile. [Or I will have no other.]

I smile. There is little that ever makes me smile, but I can't help it. Don't worry, Trevor. I promise. I'll never let you go. Even though it is the biggest sin I will probably ever commit.

-:-

_Back to the present_

10th division captain Hitsugaya Toshiro, his vice captain Matsumoto Rangiku, and 13th division 3rd seat Kotsubaki Sentaro walked into the living room of the Kurosaki home. Isshin was waiting for them with Karin and Chad.

Hitsugaya rushed to Karin, surveying her to make sure she was alright. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, kissing his forehead.

It irritated him to no end that his girlfriend had grown taller than him over the past ten years, and that he hadn't grown more than an inch. Of course, the irritation was the least of it. In ten years, Kurosaki Karin had grown into a remarkably beautiful young woman, now 22, and soccer had given her a well-toned athletic figure that most other women would be envious of. However, because his rate of aging was so much slower, even though he was actually 46, he was still 14 years old by physical comparison.

It made for a truly difficult relationship. It was one thing when Matsumoto caught them kissing when they both looked like 13-year-olds; but Karin was not a little girl anymore. On one occasion, he had failed to be particularly discreet - some other shinigami had seen him take Karin back to his pavillion for the evening. Karin had received quite a few glares. They couldn't even hold hands in public anymore without receiving dirty looks.

One time, they had gone to the beach. Karin knew he _hated_ the beach - it was too hot for him - but she bribed him by wearing a bikini that she knew would get his attention. Toshiro definitely _never_ forgot that bikini. It was enough to get him to forget about the blazing, muggy, suffocating heat for the day. But the entire time, Karin kept getting hit on by other guys who insisted she ditch 'her younger brother'. It was a turnoff for both of them. Thankfully, Karin took pity on him, and they spent the night at a hotel close by, where Toshiro enjoyed seeing said bikini on the floor.

And he still worried. Any time he asked Karin about it, she would shrug it off; saying that she didn't care how young he looked and that she loved him just the same. He certainly loved her, even though he couldn't really explain why (he was never good at articulating these things). Considering how stunningly attractive she was, it wasn't hard for Toshiro to engage in a physical relationship with her. After all, she had a hard athletic figure with firm breasts that were sizably plump, but not disproportionate like her aunt Kuukaku or his lieutenant Matsumoto. In fact, Kurosaki Karin was just about the only hot thing that Toshiro was able to appreciate.

But he always wondered if she ever thought about all of those college guys she was with all of the time. Hitsugaya Toshiro wasn't exactly going to appear on the cover of 'Iron Man' magazine any time soon. He didn't think Karin would ever cheat on him, but he still feared it. He had seen plenty of pictures of college guys, and he never thought he would be able to stack up to them.

The flipside was even creepier: what if Karin had a thing for young boys? She was sleeping with one as it is, wasn't she? Yes, he was more than twice as old as she was, and he was psychologically and emotionally a mature adult - but if she was physically attracted to his youthful physique, shouldn't Toshiro have found that just slightly disturbing? Toshiro was pretty sure that Karin had no interest in elementary school kids or high school freshmen. It seemed that she simply viewed him as an adult. Nonetheless, it was unsettling at times. Most of the time, actually.

Hitsugaya was always full of anxiety these days: anxious when he was away from her, and anxious when he was with her. At the moment, though, his relief overshadowed his typical apprehensions. He stood on his tiptoes and kissed her on the cheek, at the moment not caring about present company, who all knew about the two of them anyway. "I'm glad you're okay."

Karin was concerned. "I just got word from Rukia that Soul Society is under attack - is it okay that you're here?"

"Eh, no biggie. Two hollows stormed the west gate," Matsumoto explained. "The 3rd division is generally responsible for hollow in Sereitei; and they have the 11th for backup. It's nothing that they can't handle."

"Did everyone arrive safely?" Chad asked.

"Yes," Hitsugaya confirmed. "No additional casualties. We got everyone else into Soul Society."

"The 13th is setting up some room in the barracks for Muguruma-mototaicho, Kuna-motofukutaicho, and Yadomaru-motofukutaicho. The 4th is making arrangements for Sarugaki-motofukutaicho and Inoue-san; Hirako-mototaicho and Ishida-san will be staying with them," Kotsubaki supplied. He looked a bit haggard and out of sorts.

"Are you alright?" Matsumoto asked.

"Uh, just came back from a mission with the 2nd," Kotsubaki replied evasively.

Matsumoto nodded with an amused grin. It was a bit of an open secret as to how the 2nd division captain got her needs fulfilled.

Hitsugaya glared at his vice captain for her tactlessness, but otherwise ignored her. "When you spoke with Kuchiki, did she tell you anything else?"

"No, Kuchiki Fukutaicho didn't have a whole lot of time; she was busy trying to get Inoue-san into the infirmary."

"We have more questions than answers, but I'll tell you what we know," Hitsugaya began. "Sarugaki was attacked by an unknown, unidentified assailant wielding what we believe to be Ragnarok, the revived zanpakutou of former captain-commander Ho Shin Yang."

_"Are you for real! ?"_ Isshin exclaimed. "Ragnarok! The black demon sword that vaccuums up souls?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Hitsugaya confirmed.

"Holy shit," Isshin swore. "That's insane!"

Karin elbowed him in the gut. "Watch your mouth, Dad. We have company!"

Hitsugaya ignored the buffoon's groans and continued. "Some governmental agency here in Karakura took the body and sword away. About an hour later, the vaizard's warehouse is firebombed by helicopters and a car chase ensues."

"So either someone is clearly after the vaizard, or wanted a cover-up for the attack," Karin thought out loud. "But who? Do we think the guy who attacked Hiyori-san is working with the people who bombed the warehouse?"

"Don't know," Hitsugaya answered.

Matsumoto chimed in. "With the kind of artillery, vehicles, and troops sent out during and after the warehouse attack, it sounds to me more like a group with unlimited resources rather than a single individual."

"So you're suggesting that governmental agency is behind it?" Chad asked.

"Sounds likely," Kotsubaki noted.

"Then who was it who attacked Hiyori-san?" Isshin asked, finally getting his breath back.

"Not sure," Hitsugaya replied. "We have to investigate. Karin, I was hoping you could kugel it. There's gotta be something we can find out about the NATA."

Karin laughed out loud at his faux pas. "'Kugel' is a souffle that Yuzu likes to make. I think you mean 'Google' it."

Hitsugaya glowered as Matsumoto began to crack up in the background. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

At that moment, Karin's badge began blaring, and three cellphones went off at once. Matsumoto was the first to get her phone out. "Standard hollow attack, around three blocks from here. Four class-Ds, two class-Cs, and one class-B."

Hitsugaya gave the order. "Standard Karakura fare. Kotsubaki, Sado - go mop up while we start research here."

Chad did nothing more than nod, but Sentaro barked in the affirmative. "Yes, Taicho!" He flashed out the door with Chad running in hot pursuit.

-:-

Chad arrived to see that the group of hollows had split up. Sentaro gestured for him to take the group that had gone west, which was three of the Ds and one C. Sentaro was busy cutting up the fourth D that had straggled behind the other two.

Chad had never seen Kotsubaki fight before, but it was crystal clear why the man was a third seat. He was actually choosing to fight hand-to-hand instead of using a zanpakutou, filling in with a basic array of standard assault kido (Hado #4, #31, #33) when needed. His shunpo wasn't particularly fast, but he was a fairly good tactician; weaving in and out and firing spells from a distance, then closing in to land a punch or kick beore the fireball even struck its target.

As Chad ran westward to where the four hollows had gone, he could see the 13th Division 3rd Seat finish off the hollow with a bone-shattering punch to the hollow's mask-covered face, and it exploded in a cloud of dust. After that, Kotsubaki flashed on, out of Chad's vision.

By the time Chad caught up with the trail of horrid reiatsu, he found an unfamiliar human slaying the last of the hollows he had chased after. The man was wearing a black suit, dark glasses, and had a crew-cut. From his coloration, he was clearly Asian, although Chad had a sense that he was not Japanese. Likely not Chinese, either. Possibly Korean or Vietnamese, maybe even Philipino.

The suit was wielding some kind of bizarre weapon. It was a handle in between two bulbous wireframes shaped like king's crowns that ended in pommels. It was made entirely out of brass, and Chad supposed that a hammer-like blow from the person that carried it could probably crush a skull. That was how he assumed it would be used until the suit opened his mouth.

_"Discriminate, Vajra!"_ the human yelled, and a massive bolt of lightning erupted from the pommels of the weapon, striking the hollow and sizzling it into ashes. The suit surveyed the remains, and with a slight nod and the adjustment of his jacket, turned his attention to Chad.

"Hello, little hollow," he said. "Do you have a name?"

"Me? I'm not a hollow," Chad replied, a bit surprised to be addressed as one.

"Hollows don't have names," the suit retorted, the implied threat clear.

Novice, Chad thought. "My name is Sado Yasutora, and I'm not a hollow. Who are you?"

"Davis," the man answered. "Agent Davis. National Anti-Terrorism Agency." He flashed some sort of badge; too fast for Chad to see. "And I know a hollow when I see one."

Chad dodged left as a bolt of lightning shot past his arm, crackling the air and leaving an acrid smell of singed dust and sharp ozone. With long strides, he barely escaped another blast that was clearly intended to kill. Left with no choice but to fight, Chad took his ground. _"El Directo!"_

The blast was negated by another burst of crackling ionic lightning, and the two warriors found themselves stuck. Either one to cut the beam would be mowed down by the opponent, and moving was impossible.

Beads of sweat formed on Chad's face as he strained, adding his other arm to press forth as much power as he could. Davis was pushing back on him. It wasn't long before streaks of sweat were burning his eyes, and Chad could feel his strength ebbing.

"Playtime is over, little hollow," Davis taunted, and the blast overpowered him with an exponential level of force, zapping Chad and stopping his heart for a moment. He fell to the floor. As soon as it had begun, so it had ended. It was immediately clear that Davis had been toying with him; simply trying gauging his opponent's strength. Like a professional, Chad realized.

Chad was panting heavily, straining to make his muscles work but they were seized up and twitching from being struck by the lightning storm. A boot hit him in the side, and then again, and again; the third time causing him to vomit.

"Quite disgusting," the man said, cocking his fist with the brass weapon in hand. "So much for the Four of Hearts."

Chad heard no more, as everything went black.

* * *

_**Reviews,** please! For those of you who are curious, 'Sukoshitora' means 'Little Tiger'. Next Chapter: Blood money?_


	13. Enemy of the State

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_"Love is not something I really understand, but I suppose I can say this - that love is something learned through shared experiences. There is no sudden discovery; because love requires understanding - and there are only two ways to truly understand the soul of another. One is to fight alongside them, and the other is to fight against them."_

_Toshiro paused. __"When you clash swords with another, their blade tells you everything. It is a simple fact of soul resonance: when zanpakutou collide, it is really nothing more than two souls touching each other's most sacred purpose. One cannot come away from that experience and say that they do not know their opponent. They do; better than they care to admit. More often than not, what they find is worth forgetting - but the bonds of war can be deep and everlasting. This idea is not limited to battle; the same is true of people that you meet - you will forget many of them, but some will touch your soul. So love is really not all that different."_

_Makahiro was both pensive and apprehensive as he soaked in his father's words. "Dad... you imply that you can never really know a person until your zanpakutou are together in battle - is that correct?"_

_____"Perhaps that's... not _exactly_____ what I meant_," Toshiro hesitated, "but more or less. Why?"

_With an insightful skepticism, Makahiro's question left a tense silence hanging in the air. "Dad - have you ever crossed swords with Momo-san?"_

_~A conversation between father and son; __nearly two centuries from now_

* * *

Kira Izuru arrived on scene with his captain, Yumichika, to hear the hollow command its sword: _"Hrunting, engulf!"_

Izuru did a doubletake. What the...? _Hrunting?_ The zanpakutou that Beowulf borrowed from Unferth? How in the world was a hollow wielding a zanpakutou? Kira wondered if it was an arrancar, but the hollow's mask was intact and its face had no signs of human appearance underneath. The pink hollow in the center of a grayish, stormy cloud of blurry steam didn't look like an arrancar at all.

It was then that the reiatsu level raised dramatically as Zaraki Kenpachi arrived on scene. "Yachiru!"

"No, Ken-chan, _don't!_" Yachiru screamed as she began to shudder and fall, without explanation.

_"Yachiru!" _Zaraki hollered as he charged in with blade exposed. Kira was alarmed to see that the Kenpachi's feral grin of battle was nowhere to be found. In its place was one of great anger. The spiritual pressure that Zaraki was outputting was enough to freeze Kira in his tracks, but Yumichika had already dived in.

And then, without warning, Zaraki suddenly collapsed.

Kira could feel motion returning to his legs and sight to his eyes as the glaring yellow flare of Zaraki Kenpachi began to inexplicably dissipate. Izuru could see that the pink hollow was clutching his head in agony. Yachiru was shrieking on the alley floor, and Zaraki was convulsing with a mad twitch. Ayasegawa was rolling around, clutching his eyes and face and screaming in ear-splitting agony.

It was then that Kira began to feel a sickly, sinister tendril of of the storm cloud invisibly creep up his leg, attracted to his reiatsu. Kira immediately pulled in the reins on his soulcore, hiding his reiatsu as much as possible. The tendrils on him began to wrap around his ankles, but ceased spreading any further.

Zaraki Kenpachi, though, was slowly being devoured; as was Yachiru and the hollow, as the blurry cloud began to slowly darken; tainting the battle with a thick, smoggy pelt of grease. Ikkaku wasn't even visible anymore.

_Think!_ Kira struggled to break free, but to no avail. The tendrils of darkness that emanated from Hrunting were feeding off of Zaraki's uncontrollable reiatsu, and Kira could see that if he didn't act quickly, Yachiru was going to be enveloped entirely in black shadows. _"Hado #4: White Lightning!"_ he cast, firing directly at the zanpakutou in the hands of the fallen hollow. But in order for the kido to manifest, he needed to channel his reiatsu - and releasing it allowed Hrunting's shadows to creep further up towards his knees.

The gladiator sword took the electric shock, but nothing changed. Kira watched in horror as Yachiru's screaming was stifled as the sword's evil aura completely swallowed her. The black lump of wispy matter looked like a bloated snake that had just swallowed a gerbil.

_"YACHIRU!"_ Zaraki screamed, himself struggling against the tidal force of Hrunting's hungry vapors just to stand as his body wracked in spasms. Zaraki flared his reiatsu - the same thing he always did in a tough fight - but it only fueled the sword's appetite; strengthening and feeding the wisps until the enveloped him like chains.

Kira shot off a _Hado #31: Shot of Red Fire,_ allowing the tendrils to creep up past his knees; but the fireball was enveloped by the cloud and there was nothing that he could do. He would have shot it at the pink hollow, but it had already been devoured by the evil weapon.

So that is the uncontrollable power of Hrunting, Kira thought. No wonder Beowulf discarded it. Taking one last chance, he fired off a _Hado #33: Blue Fire, Crash Down_ into the sky, hoping that someone would see his signal. If he was lucky, maybe Momo would forgive him enough to come looking for him. If he wasn't - well, it wasn't worth living without her, anyway.

-:-

Kotsubaki flashed on-scene to see the last of the hollows, the single class-C, engaged in a fight with a man in a black suit and shades. "Hold on! I'm here to help!"

"Out of my way, shinigami!" the suit yelled as he swung a huge two-handed broadsword up at the monster's face.

"Look out!" Kotsubaki yelled, firing off a _Bakudo #4_ to try and restrain one of the hollow's many tentacles.

"I told you to get out of my way!" the caucasian man shouted, shattering the hollow's mask and cleaving its head in two. As the hollow began to disintegrate, the suit began to storm over to Sentaro. "You dimwit, you could have hit me!"

"Who are you calling a dimwit, numbskull? I just saved your ass!"

"Like hell you did! I can take care of these pests without you goddamn losers showing up!"

"Who the hell are you?" Sentaro demanded.

"None of your business!" the suit shouted, swinging his broadsword at Sentaro in a wide arc.

Sentaro lept back and pulled out his sword. "I don't need to fight you, stop this!"

"Stand down, shinigami," the suit cautioned. "Drop your sword."

Kotsubaki's ice-cold stare didn't flinch. "I have no intention to stand down when it's you who took the first swing. Now why don't you calm down and we can-"

"By the authority of Japan, I order you to _drop your sword!"_

Sentaro kept his cool. "Sorry, but I don't answer to Japan."

_"Then you are an enemy of the state!" _the suit shouted.

_"_I am _not_ your enemy!"

_"THEN DROP YOUR SWORD!"_

"No!"

Sentaro locked blades as the massive, heavy weapon came down hard against his katana. "Then I have no choice - _die!_" the suit shouted in his face. Kotsubaki pushed back and tried to plant a punch on the man's chin, but the man dodged and kicked Sentaro in the crook of the knee. Sentaro took it like a man and swung again with his free hand, but only landing a blow on the man's arm, right in the tricep. He needed answers from this maniac and he wasn't going to get them if he went straight for the kill, but he had hoped for a better shot. Still, the swipe struck hard.

The man was thrown off balance and he stumbled, clutching his upper arm with his free hand. "Lucky shot," he spat like a sore loser as he regained his footing. "You're not going to get another."

"Enough with the bravado and just tell me who you are!" Sentaro demanded, leading with a rotating jump kick that landed squarely in the man's chest.

The man fell backwards but quickly scrambled to his feet. Kotsubaki was ready for another sword strike, stance defensive and ready. To his bad luck, the suit responded by simply pulling out a revolver and firing off six shots straight into Kotsubaki's stomach - at a range of only ten feet. Kotsubaki gasped as he instinctively clutched his gut as the burning, roaring pain began to spread through his torso.

"My name is Agent Anderson, from the National Anti-Terrorism Agency. I'm invoking my right to terminate you as a spy against Japan," he explained. "And for the record, I don't do bravado."

Kotsubaki's vision began to haze and his knees began to go weak. Blood dripped down onto the pavement as he struggled to breathe. He saw a flash of his former life on Earth - a rare occurrence among shinigami - when he realized that he had met his end this way - in this place - once before. How he, a samurai in a time long ago, fell to new weapons that ended the era of the sword. But Kotsubaki Sentaro was unable to think of the irony; as his flash of insight was interrupted.

"Now why don't you tell me your name, you asshat?" Anderson inquired with disdain.

"13th Division 3rd Seat, Kotsubaki Sentaro," he wheezed, blood trickling out of his mouth as he came back to Earth.

"Never heard of you," Anderson sneered. "As far as I'm concerned, you're a nobody. And you're going to die a nobody."

Kotsubaki coughed, and blood splattered on the sidewalk. It wounded his pride, but he was honest. "Yeah," he admitted. "I'm a nobody." It was hard to talk; the pain and the haze were unfathomable. "But you're going to regret this," he coughed.

"That's quite a lot of confidence from someone who punches like a girl," Anderson taunted.

Kotsubaki's face twisted into a triumphant smile. "So I punch like a girl, eh?" he wheezed again. "Heh," he chuckled morbidly, "you're right." Sentaro's eyes lit with a fire of determination, and one more word escaped his lips:

_"Shunko."_

Anderson had no idea what hit him. Absolutely no idea. That was because Agent Anderson was no longer capable of conceiving ideas. When Sentaro let forth a kido-infused flash punch, the explosive force was so vicious that it literally detonated Anderson's head into a stump of bleeding goo.

Exhausted, Kotsubaki collapsed to the ground next to his opponent's gushing corpse. His wound was bad, and he exacerbated by using a technique he had barely been able to control. He had only learned it from watching Soifon - that awful hag - torture him with it. As his eyes closed, his breathing slowed. His life began to leave his body, and Kotsubaki smiled. He would fall as a warrior on the battlefield. His badass father would be proud to know his son got his badass moment. Disgraced in life, Kotsubaki Sentaro took solace that he would at least be noble in death.

-:-

"Scatter, Senbonzakura."

_"Scream, Shiji!"_

The 6th division tandem's tactical technique executed perfectly. The versatile cyclone of tiny cherry-blossom-sized blades whizzed the smoke and ashes away enough to give Ichihime a perfect shot with her oversized boomerang. Her aim was perfect: _"Erupt!"_

The giant boomerang exploded the second it came into contact with the source of so much trouble: the gladiator sword lying on the floor. Byakuya reformed his shikai just in time to contain the massive burst of shrapnel flying in all directions. The dark wisps of smoke began to dissipate, leaving an even more horrifying visage.

The wasted dead corpse of Zaraki Kenpachi was lying on the floor, shriveled and dehydrated into an ashy, barely-held-together clod of dust.

Ichihime immediately called for backup. "EMERGENCY! CAPTAINS DOWN! Send Unohana Taicho _immediately!_ REPEAT, _CAPTAINS DOWN!"_

Byakuya managed to catch Kira Izuru, whose legs had been eaten away down to the bone and had only been held up by the dark cloud of smog. Ichihime quickly ran to inspect Yachiru, who had barely managed to survive. She was unconscious but was still breathing shallow, desperate gasps. She had a terrible stomach wound, but at least her body wasn't dessicated like the others. Her zanpakutou had shattered into a trillion pieces and was strewn across the cement floor.

Yumichika, the other captain at the scene, was collapsed on the pavement; hugging a pile of dust and ashes that Ichihime could only assume was the remains of Ikkaku. Yumichika was also in bad shape, his wrinkled and crumbling limbs barely able to support him as he cried and sobbed with whatever strength he could. His entire torso's flesh had rotted away, exposing decaying muscle and sinew.

Unohana and Komamura, flanked by Isane and Hisagi, were next on scene and rushed to help. Shortly thereafter, 4th division 3rd and 4th seats Iemura and Yamada arrived.

Ichihime took a look at her captain. She could tell that he, too, was struggling to conceive what had happened here, despite his every effort to hide his distress. They had been delayed because a garganta had opened by the south gate, and since the 3rd and 11th had already been diverted to the other alert, the 6th had been sent to mop up a pack of gillians that had begun to enter Sereitei.

The Banzo princess was at a loss for words. Izuru? Yumichika, Yachiru? _Ikkaku? Zaraki?_ These were not your average shinigami. They were the old guard - they had survived the arrancar, the espada, Hueco Mundo, Aizen - and now they fall to _this?_ To _two_ adjuchas and a _pair of swords_? She worked with these guys all the time; they were no amateurs - how could it be?

The 11th division chain of command was decimated - the _11th_, for fuck's sake! Zaraki and Madarame, _gone!_ And poor Yachiru - even if Yachiru survived, there's no way she could command the division alone; especially without Zaraki. And the 3rd - both the captain and vice captain, out of commission. Ichihime prayed that the 3rd division leadership would survive, but even if they made it, they weren't coming out of the hospital any time soon.

_How could this happen? This is just inconceivable!_

Byakuya's solemn hand laid across her shoulder. "We are no longer needed here, Banzo-san. We must report to the Soutaicho."

Ichihime nodded, but for once, she wasn't happy that her greatest asset was the ability to blow shit up.

-:-

Hitsugaya looked up from the computer screen as he felt reiatsus flare and flicker out. _Damnit!_ "Matsumoto, Karin - Kotsubaki and Chad are down! We gotta go!"

Karin had popped her soul candy in and told Chartreuse, a soul she had been using for several years now, to hold down the fort.

"Hai-Hai!" it chirped in Karin's body as the three shinigami darted out the door.

"Matsumoto, go find Chad. We'll find Kotsubaki."

Rangiku nodded, getting serious. _"Hai."_

-:-

Karin swallowed hard as she clutched Toshiro tightly, struggling to keep herself from vomiting.

As a shinigami representative, Karin did basic hollow hunting wherever she was. In college, she had covered the campus grounds in Osaka. She had seen casualties before - both human and shinigami - but nothing like this. The gore was so overwhelming that it made her cringe. The sheer volume of blood was more than Karin had ever seen while helping out in her father's clinic or doing her anatomy courses in university.

Kotsubaki was lying face down in the dirt, his arms tucked underneath him. Blood, both tangible and reishi-based, was all over the place. Next to him was a headless corpse that had suffered so much damage that the shoulders had even exploded open, exposing all the way down to the collarbone. It was a gruesome horror unlike she had ever seen.

Toshiro didn't know exactly what had transpired, but it was clear that Kotsubaki had defeated his assailant before succumbing to his wounds. It wasn't clear whether or not Kotsubaki had earned them prior to his fight with the headless suit.

"C'mon, Karin," he motioned, rubbing her back to comfort her. "I know this is going to be hard, but we need to search this guy's body; it may have some valuable leads."

"I can't do it, Toshiro," she heaved. "I can't do this."

"I understand," he said grimly, and patted her on the back again. "Don't worry, I got it, then."

"Okay," she mumbled meekly, letting go of him.

First things first: Toshiro rolled over Kotsubaki's body and inspected it for his report. "...Looks like bullet wounds to the stomach." Toshiro wasn't sure how physical bullets could hit a shinigami, but it corroborated what they already knew - both Love and Hachi had been killed by spirit-wounding firearms.

Karin didn't say anything. She instead faced away from the bodies so that she wouldn't have to look at them. In the meanwhile, she would keep watch for whatever might come their way. It was clear that they needed to be on high alert.

Toshiro continued his inpsection, but found nothing else out of the ordinary with the late 3rd seat. "Anything before I perform the last rites?"

Karin shook her head.

He took a solemn breath, symbolically placing the konso insignia engraved at the end of Hyorinmaru's hilt on Kostubaki's forehead. _"May you pass into the land of the living, and return to us once more."_ After a moment of silence, he quietly mumbled _"Hado #54: Abolishing Flames"_ to cremate the body.

Next, he rolled over the suit and started digging through pockets. After cleaning them as best he could, he tossed a wallet, cell phone, and a revolver over to Karin to look at while he searched the body for any interesting marks (such as tatoos) that might reveal anything about the person's allegiances.

"Interesting. American. A Smith & Wesson, Model 686 SSR," Karin noted, inspecting the revolver. "A classic line; over ten years old. Six round chamber; all of the bullets have been discharged. Looks like it was loaded with standard .357 Magnums - I bet this was the gun he used to kill Kotsubaki," she said stoicly. "Highly illegal in Japan unless you're a member of law enforcement. Suspicious, since Japan stopped issuing American-made handguns to law enforcement several years ago."

Toshiro raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you know so much about guns?"

"Don't ask," she commented dryly.

He didn't. Although Karin had studied to work in pharmacology, she had considered becoming a cop; since being a shinigami wasn't all that much different, anyway. Still, he hadn't realized she took the idea so seriously. "Anything in the wallet?"

"Jackpot," Karin smirked as she rifled through it. "A badge, with a set of business cards: Agent J.R. Anderson, National Anti-Terrorism Agency. There's an address here, too: 670 Blackfield Avenue, Doverfield, Pennsylvania; United States. A picture here of him and some woman, I assume his wife or girlfriend."

"No Japanese address?"

Karin rifled through the wallet some more. "Nope, nothing. A lot of cash, though - five hundred US dollars, five hundred euro, and forty thousand yen."

"Blood money, I bet."

Karin nodded and stuck the wallet in her shihakusho. As much as the cash would have been nice, she would let Ichigo make the call. He was her captain, after all.

"What about the phone?"

She shook her head. "Cell phone is a bust. It says it has no contacts in it; but that's gotta be wrong. It's probably encoded - I bet we could unlock it somehow and find more information inside."

Hitsugaya nodded as he surveyed the rest of the field. Something struck his eye. "Hey, what's this?" A gigantic two-handed zwiehander was lying on the ground about ten feet away.

Karin turned her attention to where he was suggesting. "That _is_ weird. A giant broadsword?"

Toshiro picked it up to take a closer look - _Salutations, fair Elf!_ - and then dropped it again in complete shock.

"Toshiro, what's wrong?"

Hitsugaya stood, frozen in place. "It's alive."

"Alive?"

"That's not a sword," he explained. "It's a zanpakutou."

-:-

_Elsewhere, three years ago_

I closed the book. It was the fifth one she had given me this week, and by now, the message was undoubtedly clear. "Can I interrupt you?"

"Yes," she says, looking up from her book. I'm surprised - she usually doesn't stop reading to answer my questions.

"You're trying to tell me something, aren't you?"

A pause. "Yes."

"Are... are you lonely here?"

A long pause. "No."

I think for a minute. "But... you _were _lonely?"

"Yes," she answers immediately.

"You were lonely... before I came?"

"Yes," she answers the same way she always does, but I can see a subtle hint of bashfulness in her eyes. I'm surprised that I can discern it. I suppose I've begun to decipher her a bit now that I've spent so much time with her over the past few months.

It is then that she blinks. I realize that I have never seen her ever blink before; and how unnatural that is. It's clear that she is gesturing to me, but I don't know how to interpret it. "It must be hard being here all by yourself."

"Yes," she says in her usual emotionless tone.

"I'm sorry," I comment, handing her the book she had given me. "I want to know more about you," I say simply. "Do you want to give me another book?"

She walks over to the bookshelf and replaces the one I just read back on the shelf. After a moment, she selects a tome and hands it to me - a hardcover Jane Austen book I brought her a few weeks ago. It's a copy of "Pride and Prejudice". I remember reading it ages ago (although not in English), back when I was just like everyone else.

I give her a puzzled look. Her unchanging face tells me nothing, other than that I have her full attention. "Um, you're telling me something, aren't you?"

"Yes."

I can't believe I'm about to ask her this, but I might as well try. "Are... are you saying you love me?"

A pause. A very, _very_ long pause.

"Wait," I say. I think that's a bit too difficult for her to address; I need to narrow the question. I think hard and try to formulate something that will get me a meaningful answer. "Um, let me refine that - do you feel like you might love me, maybe now or sometime in the future?"

"Yes," comes an immediate response. I can see the relief in her eyes, although I'm impressed that I can detect it.

I smile, a bit embarassed. "I... I don't know what to say."

As expected, she is silent. I want her to say something, but I know she can't say anything other than 'yes' or 'no'. Normally, that's not so much of a problem, but this is one of those scenarios where it is honestly quite frustrating. "I'm sorry, I hope I don't upset you when I say this, but I've never thought about it. I'm supposed to be your caretaker; I'm not supposed to become emotionally attached to you."

I realize how that sounds, so I quickly sputter, "But I care about you deeply, no matter what they tell me. I hope you're not upset, it's just that... I've never thought about it. I... I didn't know that you felt this way." Hell, I didn't even know you had that much emotion in you at all. "Are you disappointed or upset?"

"No," she answers.

"Really?" I ask. "You're not the slightest bit disappointed? Not at all rejected?"

"No."

I feel terrible. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask: you wouldn't lie about something like this, would you?"

"No," she answers quickly, _and_ with a shake of her head. I've never seen her do that before, so I take her answer as sincere.

I breathe a sigh of relief. A quiet but easy silence hangs in the air, and by impulse, I ask her something unusual. "Take off your glasses."

She does, and I'm surprised by how much she looks my age despite the multiple centuries between us. Her tiny, innocent features are cherubic and charming, in a very pure kind of way. A strand of light lavender hair - from what I understand, originally dark purple before it began to go gray - falls loose, and she tucks it behind her ear. It is a harmless and meaningless movement, but I find it endearing.

"You are beautiful," I tell her, and a pleasant quiet remains for a moment. "Would you like to hear more about who I am?"

"Yes," she answers, her pitch different; almost eager. As though she might actually feel some essence of emotion inside.

And so I tell her everything. From the very beginning.

-:-

"A _zanpakutou_? From _who_?" Karin asked, stunned.

"I don't know," Hitsugaya shrugged. Carefully, he reached out for the hilt and picked it up.

_Dearsay, Elf, you are most rude to drop me. Have you no respect?_

Karin watched with amusement as Toshiro grit his teeth in annoyance. "What, did he call you a middle schooler or something?" she teased.

He glared at her, but didn't bother with a retort. She was the only person he took that kind of crap from. Returning his attention to the sword, he tried to speak to it telepathically. Can you hear me?

_Of course I can - what do you take me for, an orc-brained halfwit?_

Who are you? Hitsugaya thought. Who is your owner?

_My name is Glamdring, and now that you're holding me, the answer would be you._

A spark of familiarity came into Toshiro's head. "Oi, Karin - does the name 'Glamdring' sound familiar?"

"Tolkien," she offered. "I'm sure I made you read him. There's some great Lord of the Rings movies that were made about a decade and a half ago. I'm pretty sure I made you watch them with me once."

_"Tolkien? !"_ Hitsugaya exclaimed.

_Ah, yes, my original owner's pseudonym. That damn Tom Bombadil was such an artsy fartsy man, I must say._

"You mean Tolkien was a _shinigami?_" Hitsugaya barked at the zwiehander.

_Of course he was,_ the sword answered. _Everyone in my generation knew that he modeled his orcs after that barbarian buffoon his watch lead was._

"So wait, isn't Tolkien long since dead?" asked Karin, not able to hear the sword but guessing what it was saying. "I mean, if Tolkien is dead, shouldn't the zanpakutou be dead, too?"

_Ah, Elf, you have such an intelligent woman with you. Is she your mother? I daresay she looks nothing like you, though._

Hitsugaya started whacking the flat of the sword against a tree. "She's my girlfriend, and STOP CALLING ME ELF!"

Karin guffawed so loudly she practically lost her breath, which only gave her a really nasty glare from her little man. She put a hand over her mouth to staunch the outburst, but it wasn't working.

_Well, then, little boy - you must have a name?_

Toshiro seethed. "Hitsugaya _Taicho._" Emphasis on the _show-some-respect-or-I'm-going-to-kick-your-ass,_ you old geezer's steak knife_._ Turning to his companion, he gestured for her to take the blade. "You carry this wise-ass."

Karin smiled. "Hey, don't look at me, I already have two swords to attend to."

He rolled his eyes at her but let her get away with it, just because he couldn't be bothered. "We need to get this stuff back to the 12th. I bet that they can run some diagnostics and they can set up some surveillance on this place out in Transylvania."

"Pennsylvania," Karin corrected with a stifled laugh.

"Whatever," he shrugged, annoyed with her.

Karin felt bad. Toshiro was having a tough day and seemed really stressed out. She gave him an affectionate whack and squeeze on the rump. "C'mon, call your fukutaicho and have her deliver the goods. We'll kick Dad out of the house and have some not-so-quiet time," she said, kissing him on the cheek for good measure.

"Don't you think that suggestion is just a little inappropriate at the moment?" he glared at her, put off by the morbid circumstances.

She frowned. "Sorry, you're right," Karin said. "I've just missed you a lot, that's all. I'm sorry; this isn't easy on me either. I don't know how Ichi-nii and Ruki-nee do this," she confessed, getting surprisingly emotional on him. Toshiro attributed it to the natural stress of seeing a lost comrade - in that light, it was sort of expected. "And I'm always worried that one day, I'm going to find out that something happened to you. I know it's wrong of me to be thinking about us rolling around in bed right now, but the truth is that really just want to have some time alone with you, just to give me the peace of mind I need right now."

"Karin," he began. "I-"

"What if that was _you_? What if that was _you_ with your head torn off, Toshiro?" she said bitterly. "I'd be beside myself. I'm sorry if I'm being a little childish, but I need a fucking vacation. With you. Somewhere. To remind me why I still allow myself to get knee deep in shit most people never know anything about."

Karin was rewarded with a rare bit of heartfelt vulnerability surfacing in his bright teal eyes. "I know, Karin. It's not easy for me either." He didn't need to give her any further gestures of comfort, but he did anyway; reaching for her and wrapping his hands around her waist and cradling his head between her bosom. His soft white hair was flush against her neck, and she absentmindedly ran her fingers through it with one hand as her other clutched his back. He smelled like home; and as awful as the scene was, Karin was finally able to push it out of her mind and recenter herself.

After a moment, they parted, but he left their hands intertwined to give her the touch she needed. Toshiro pulled out his cellphone with his free hand, and was about to dial Matsumoto when the other cellphone - the one they had lifted off of the dead agent - began to ring. She handed it to Toshiro, encouraging him to answer it. He opened it and put it to his ear, but kept silent.

The other end came through quiet but clear in English, and Hitsugaya was thankful that shinigami had the gift of tongues. "Anderson, hurry up! We bagged one! This hot blonde with _really_ big tits, too. Watson isn't gonna complain about this one!"

Toshiro's eyes bulged out of his sockets, and Karin could tell he was livid because the temperature began to drop about ten degrees. She mouthed a 'What is it?' to him.

"Anderson? Are you there?"

Hitsugaya slammed the phone shut, afraid to give away anything to the caller.

"Toshiro, what is it?"

The temperature dropped another fifteen degrees. _"They have Matsumoto."_

* * *

_Sorry this chapter came out a few days later than usual. I've been busy and it needed quite a lot of work. **Reviews**, please! Next chapter: Preparations for war!_


	14. Call to War

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note: **Urahara makes a reference in this chapter to the events in "Save Me, Kuchiki"._

_**Translator's note: **The honorific -kun__ is used from one man to another man of equal or lesser stature._ It is acceptable for use between two women with a clear chain of respect, such as in a direct military command or in very signficant differences in social status. For example, Kuukaku might call her vice captain 'Hinamori-kun', because they are both women, because Kuukaku is a Four Houses noble, because she is so much older, and because Hinamori is her military subordinate. In general, though, the -kun honorific is reserved for men. When used to a woman's face, it can be easily perceived as degrading, demeaning, or condescending.

* * *

_"One can achieve just about anything through sheer force of will."  
~A wisdom widely attributed to 4th Division Captain Kotetsu Isane; nearly two hundred years from now_

* * *

Isane had performed many miracles - but if she pulled this off it would be truly astounding, even for someone of her caliber.

"Satoshi, get reiatsu stabilizers in here now!" she ordered. "Kunaeda, I need 20cc of udakropaphemanine, stat! Takashi, get me hyrdopanolysis scans on her head and torso. I need a toxicology report ASAP."

_"Hai,"_ they all replied, and rushed off.

Isane worked quickly, slowing down Yachiru's pounding heart rate and regulating it to a steady rhythm slightly below that of slumbering torpor. Yachiru's syndrome had actually saved her. The 11th division lieutenant had a rare form of reishi stasis that prevented her from completely maturing into physical adulthood. Because her reishi couldn't be completely unfettered, she was basically immune to reiatsu-based attacks (one of the many reasons she had been able to withstand her father's colossal spiritual pressure).

The virus-like reiatsu that Isane was trying to treat now attacked the immune system by latching on to unrestrained reishi. Although it had seeped deeply into her body through her open stomach wound - and could still cause sepsis - the fact that it couldn't penetrate Yachiri's cells meant it couldn't rob her body of its spiritual essence. Isane realized, of course, that Zaraki Kenpachi would have never had a chance. It was as if this reiatsu attack had been specifically crafted to target his unique physioreishology. A virus-like effect whose effectiveness is proportional to its victim's inability to control spiritual pressure was just about the only thing that could have killed him, Isane reasoned.

_Which seems mightily suspicious,_ Itegumo remarked.

I agree. We need to tell Unohana Taicho.

Kunaeda was the first one back, and Isane promptly injected the needle into Yachiru's saketsu. This was an extremely delicate, careful procedure that most shinigami would never dream of doing for fear of permanently damaging the soulcore; but as 4th division lieutenant, Isane must have performed about ten of them a week for the past fifty years, so she performed the operation both swiftly and flawlessly as was expected.

Within moments, Satoshi had the reiatsu stabilizers going, and Isane was trying to synchronize with Yachiru's reiatsu signature. Yachiru's wavelength was completely unstable and pulsating at odd intervals; Isane racked her brains trying to find some kind of pattern or rhythm to latch onto. It took a few minutes, but Isane was able to trace the faint tempo, almost like a twitch, that was the undercurrent of the cacophonous resonance in Yachiru's soulcore. Isane amped up the kido on that wavelength and began to strengthen the soul chord that connected the hakusui, until she could distinctly separate the soulcore pattern from the toxic infiltration.

Relieved that Yachiru's wavelength was stabilizing, she began to incant the words for reishi ejection, and the green glow around her hands increased and tinged a shade darker as she began to expel the foreign substance.

"Satoshi, get ready with the dry ice," she ordered.

"_Hai,"_ her 9th seat complied, and got into position.

"Alright, here we go." Isane cranked up the expulsion, and the black reiatsu began to steam out Yachiru's skin. Satoshi immediately set the dry ice over the steaming portions, absorbing up the heat so as not to inflict any burns as a side effect of the treatment. Black drops of reishi ichor began to trickle over her skin as the steam condensed. 13th seat Kunaeda knew his place, too, and began to wipe up the black liquid, squeezing it into a toxicology analysis jar to be sent to the 12th.

The expulsion treatment was an intense operation - the reishi virus needed to be excorcised from every part of Yachiru's body. After twenty minutes of covering each part of the tiny lieutenant's naked figure, they rolled her over and did her back and sides.

Isane could barely believe it, but forty minutes after Kusajishi Yachiru was rolled into the 4th division infirmary, she was officially pronounced a survivor. "Dress her up and get her into the ICU. Make sure she gets heavy hydration. Supplement with lykanadine, four times daily, until palor recedes. Have her take kenodine if she has any pain. Keep her off sweets and make sure she gets a high-protein diet with extra beta-carotene - and yes, I actually did say beta-carotene, don't give me that look. If she wants, she can have sake in moderation; one shot per day - but no candy, got it?"

_"Hai,_" Satoshi and Kunaeda nodded, with Takashi jotting down notes on Yachiru's medical noteboard.

Satoshi hesitated. "Um... sake?"

Isane laughed. "Believe it or not, but Kusajishi Fukutaicho is older than I am. If she wants sake, she's entitled."

Satoshi shrugged and Takashi jotted it down before wheeling Yachiru's bed out of the room.

Isane breathed a sigh of relief and turned her attention to Yachiru's zanpakutou. Sukoshitora seemed mostly unaffected on the outside, although it had since reverted to asauchi form. Isane was completely floored, though - reports at the scene had indicated that Sukoshitora had been found shattered in a thousand pieces, and that it had to be swept up with a broom and bagged in a zanpakutou recovery sack. Isane wondered in complete astonishment as to how it could have repaired itself so quickly.

Unsheathing it, Isane inspected the reishi signature. As expected, Sukoshitora fought against her, trying to burn her hand and shove nightmares and ghastly images of carnage into her brain. Isane had a mental shield up, though, and recorded this as normal - all zanpakutou generally give fierce resistance to anyone but their owner trying to handle them unsheathed - and she set it down on the table to observe it carefully.

Checking the soul resonance, Isane couldn't detect any particular abnormalities. It was certainly tainted with the viral reishi that had infected its owner, but there didn't seem to be any septic damage or infiltration. The blade was clean, with no knicks or scratches, and otherwise didn't seem in danger of shattering.

Just to be on the safe side, she took out an oilcloth from the drawer and dipped it in some reishi-enriched mineral oil. Wiping down the blade, hilt, and crossguard, Isane could feel Sukoshitora relax a bit; even purr as she treated it with just as much attention and care that she gave her human patients.

It was then that Sukoshitora shattered into a trillion pieces, infusing kami-only-knows-how-many amplicores straight up through Isane's arm. The surge of power made Isane feel giddy and lightheaded - _I wonder if that's what bankai feels like, _thought Itegumo - but when the surge passed, Sukoshitora literally reconstructed itself back into one piece.

Now _that's_ a cool zanpakutou ability, Isane thought. It must have saved Yachiru's life. Isane guessed that it poured all that energy into her body to keep the stomach wound from killing her, or to prevent sepsis from setting in. Another reinspection found that Sukoshitora was normal as before (as bizarre as it considering it had been in pieces just seconds before), and Isane now felt like she had some answers to the mystery behind Yachiru's oversized sword.

Satisfied that Sukoshitora would be okay, she wrapped the blade in a reishi-enriched biofeedback bandage intended to prevent reiatsu leakage, and then resheathed it. Taking a few moments to tie down the hilt in order to discourage Yachiru from removing it from the scabbard, Isane smiled triumphantly. After jotting down some notes on her prognosis, Isane picked it up off the table. She might as well return it to Yachiru's bedside at this point; it would help both of them recover faster if they were together.

Turning around towards the doorway of the operating room, she was surprised to find the 1st division lieutenant waiting in front of the double doors. "Sasakibe Fukutaicho," she greeted in surprise.

He simply nodded. "Did she make it?"

"Yes," Isane sighed happily. "Miraculously."

Sasakibe nodded. "I'll tell the Soutaicho."

"Wait," Isane hesitated. "Any news on the others?" Isane had no hopes that Kenpachi survived - the sad look on Unohana's face at the scene of the incident indicated he was likely beyond hope, even for her - but Madarame, Ayasegawa and Kira were all open questions.

He hesitated for a moment. "I don't have any official information yet."

Isane frowned. It was unlike him to be uninformed, but she shrugged it off. In all the hustle and bustle, it wasn't completely surprising that no one had time to answer his questions. "Let me ask around."

Sasakibe nodded. "Send word to my office when you have more information."

Isane hesitated awkwardly. "...Okay," she agreed. "Sorry if it's a bit crazy out there. It's not every day we have two captains go down."

Sasakibe dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand. "Take care of the patients first, then worry about the reports."

"Sure thing," Isane noted with a relieved smile, and then headed off to return Yachiru's zanpakutou.

-:-

Rantao listened with half an ear as Urahara took the broadsword from the 10th division captain Hitsugaya Toshiro, who was equally as short, icy, and no-nonsense as the head lieutenant. He was flanked by someone who introduced themself as the Division Black lieutenant, Kurosaki Karin.

You would think Urahara Taicho would have told me that we have a fourteenth division, she muttered to herself. I mean, really, who leaves out that kind of information?

"Rantao-san and I will investigate right away," Urahara assured the white-haired captain. "Hopefully, we can find something."

Hitsugaya offered his thanks and left with the young woman. Rantao was impressed with herself that she had managed not to say anything stupid. Of course, she had accomplished this by choosing not to say anything. She was beginning to see the value in the expression 'silence is golden.'

"My, my," Urahara remarked as he held the zwiehander that they just received. "How interesting."

"What is it?"

"Here," he said, handing her the blade. It was heavy and she nearly dropped it. "Talk to it."

"Talk to it?"

_That's right, fair maiden. Such a long time since I've graced the presence of a female - perhaps you wouldn't mind tucking me into your pantaloons?_

Rantao shrieked and clumsily dropped it. When Urahara gave her a semi-curious glance, she blushed. "It can talk. And on top of that, it's a pervert. A medieval one."

"Well, the second bit is news to me, but yes, it can indeed talk. If Hitsugaya Taicho is right, and this is Bombadil's zanpakutou Glamdring, then we have quite a wealth of potential information." He nonchalantly picked up the broadsword and motioned for her to come into the lab. "Personally, this is the most excitement we've had since the previous captain kidnapped me and tried to summon an otherwordly being who might have unwittingly destroyed the universe. I can't wait to sink my teeth into it, can't you?"

"Yes, sir, very exciting," Rantao commented like the sycophant she was. Hopefully, I won't prove to be a complete failure now that we've got something important to do.

-:-

Hitsugaya knocked on the door to the 13th division captain's pavillion. He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he had to deliver the news personally.

"Come in," Ukitake called.

"Karin-chan? What are you doing _here_?" Rukia asked as Karin and Toshiro entered. She was sitting in front of Ukitake's desk; the two were reviewing some paperwork.

"We unfortunately came to bring you this," Hitsugaya said, and Karin passed Kotsubaki Sentaro's katana to Ukitake.

Jushiro and Rukia's faces fell as they realized the implications of the lifeless sword in his hands. "How did it happen?" Jushiro asked quietly.

Hitsugaya related the whole story, including how Kotsubaki's sacrifice gave them their first opportunity to learn something new about the enemy. Karin filled in details, and they also explained how Matsumoto was taken hostage. The whereabouts of Chad were still unknown; Isshin was looking for him now.

Toshiro did not want to waste even a minute. "I'm going to report to the Soutaicho and request an immediate rescue mission. I owe it to you to give you the chance to avenge him."

Ukitake shook his head. "The war in Europe is demanding too much of my attention. I'm sending Kuchiki, though."

Rukia looked up at her captain. "Are you su-"

"Yes," he said definitively. "I'm not one for vengeance, but this agency is interfering with my division, and I want my best soldier on the inside."

"Fair enough," Hitsugaya nodded. "Anything else?"

"Just one thing," Ukitake noted, looking once more at his former 3rd seat's dead sword. "There are others who deserve to know about this. I'm sure Kiyone will be devastated. Please, let me have an opportunity to speak with them personally, and then we'll ask Yamamoto-san for a captain's meeting."

Hitsugaya nodded. "C'mon, Karin. You need to find Ichigo and tell him about Chad."

Karin sighed in somber agreement, and they left the pavillion.

-:-

Soifon was in a rare good mood. Omaeda was somewhere far away, and her 3rd seat, Hana Tsubaki, was with her instead. Hana was the epitome of grace and competence, and was a sweet, cheery woman who had no problem kicking a man in the crotch if that was the fastest way to down him.

On top of that, the warm afterglow of a wonderfully violent session in her 2nd division bed left her tickled pink everywhere. Oh, how she loved to be tickled pink.

The calming, shiny feeling along her skin made her temporarily forget her worries over Yoruichi-sama. For over a century, Yoruichi-sama had disappeared. Soifon feared the worst. She was raised, trained, and taught to serve Yoruichi-sama, and she had vanished; and now that she had returned, Soifon felt like a missing meaning in her life had been restored.

But that bastard Urahara, the one who had taken Yoruichi-sama away from her in the first place, was now back, too. She _hated_ him. Soifon wanted to nail him up to a wall, cut his balls off, and let him bleed to death. Because of him, Yoruichi-sama didn't need Soifon anymore. No; now she had a husband to dote on her. It was all his fault.

On most days, Soifon fretted about this endlessly. About how one day, Soifon wouldn't be important enough for Yoruichi-sama to care about anymore. Yoruichi-sama already had three children, and Soifon knew she was going to have many more. It wouldn't be long before Yoruichi-sama's family was so big that Soifon would never have her attention again.

Really, all Soifon wanted was for Yoruichi-sama to acknowledge that Soifon was part of the family. Like Yoruichi-sama's little mistress, or at the very least, little sister. If Yoruichi-sama thought of Soifon as her daughter, Soifon would be happy with that, too. But mistress would be nice. If only Yoruichi-sama would be able to admit her true feelings, it would make everything so much simpler.

At the moment, though, Soifon was pleasantly distracted by the still-warm-and-squishy feeling that Kotsubaki had been so kind to leave with her. She thought that they had come together in a bit of an unconventional way, but they were happy together. He loved her and liked to pleasure her, even though she knew that her tastes were a bit... different than most women. She was very lucky to have found someone who finally loved her, who gave her the attention she needed when Yoruichi was too busy to spend time with her. Kotsubaki would never be Yoruichi-sama, but he was nice enough to offer himself as Soifon's comfort.

Soifon shouted out some criticisms at one of her covert ops who was off a bit during their practice routines, and saw that Hana San Seki jotted down the comment.

She then returned her attention to the brief and fleeting thoughts of serenity; the soothing, centering feeling she had that reminded Soifon of her teeth in her lover's flesh and her nails clawing into his buttocks. Total control - that at those moments, she owned him. That her lover was completely and totally hers; that she controlled everything: his pleasure, his pain, both at the same time. It was one of the zen moments when Soifon's life seemed like she could control her fate, instead of treading water in an ocean of meaningless emptiness waiting for Yoruichi-sama to rescue her. That was why Sentaro came back to her whenever she called; because he loved her and knew she needed this.

A hell butterfly interrupted her inner peace with a message from Ukitake Jushiro. It was a simple message, asking if he could meet Soifon in her office immediately.

It was an unusual request. Soifon had little interaction with Ukitake, but she respected him. He would only contact her about something important, and generally not in person. Soifon assumed it was a classified mission to support the 13th in Europe somewhere, given what Ukitake's division was faced with these days.

"Hana," Soifon commanded. "Something has come up and I need to meet with another captain. Oversee things here."

"_Hai,_ Taicho," Tsubaki nodded, and Soifon flashed off.

-:-

Soifon already found him in her office, which surprised her. He must have gone there first and only sent the butterfly after he found out she wasn't there. "Ukitake-san," she nodded tersely by way of greeting.

"Soifon Taicho," he acknowledged. "I am sorry for the short notice, but I believe you deserved to hear it from me in private."

Her ears perked up at this. It didn't sound good at all. "What?"

He breathed deeply before bowing his head slightly and sighing. "I regret to inform you that 13th division 3rd seat, Kotsubaki Sentaro, was killed in the line of duty."

Soifon was frozen. Completely still. The only thing that moved was the twitch in her eyes as she tried to absorb the shock.

Jushiro was expecting a sarcastic remark from his fellow captain, but she was silent. It honestly unnerved him. He expected her to swear 'baka' or something, at least. Call him an idiot or a loser for getting himself killed. Jushiro was not expecting her to be seriously taken aback by the news.

"I don't understand, Ukitake," Soifon said distantly. Kotsubaki was a third seat. He was in charge of commanding two thousand watch lead officers stationed in the real world. Since when did he do anything but manage resources from the safety of the 13th division offices? He wasn't even a lieutenant that got sent out on high-profile missions. How the hell did he get killed?

"...I'm sorry," Jushiro supplied awkwardly. "I know that you and him were... involved."

Soifon stood aimlessly. "He loved me," she said.

Ukitake Jushiro didn't have to ever inquire into his 3rd seat's personal affairs to know that Kotsubaki Sentaro definitely did not love the captain of the Onmitsukido. Of course, verbalizing that particular thought was not particularly prudent at the moment. "I am sorry for your loss," he said simply, hoping it didn't come across as dismissive.

The short woman in front of him seemed to collect her composure as her shock gave way to anger. "Who did this to him?"

Ukitake sidestepped the question. "There will be a captain's meeting shortly to discuss the enemy in question and prepare a team for a mission." Jushiro thought it tactless to mention anything about avenging Kotsubaki. Soifon seemed like she we do it regardless of whether or not it was really her place.

Soifon grimaced, but then her features softened signficantly. "Thank you for telling me in person," she acknowledged in a rare moment of personal affectation. "...Others might not have been so considerate."

"Of course," Jushiro answered, glad that he had thought to do so. Ancestors pray tell how she would have reacted if she found out secondhand.

They were both saved from the awkward silence when two hell butterflies fluttered in, calling them for an emergency captain's meeting. Soifon took one last look at her fellow captain, and then the two departed.

-:-

"There is _no way_ that we can send in the 10th! They would screw _everything_ up!"

"Calm down, Soifon," Kuukaku snapped.

"Shut it, Queen of Shiba," Soifon snapped back. "You stay out of this!"

"I understand that you've lost your chew-toy, but c'mon, really - let's try to stay professional here."

"Are you calling me a bitch, you bitch! ?"

Byakuya just closed his eyes. This was going to be a long meeting.

"Enough!" roared Yamamoto. "Soifon, calm yourself, or you will be asked to leave!"

Soifon harumphed but otherwise kept her mouth shut.

"We have lost a captain. Another captain and two vice captains are in grave condition and will likely not recover soon. Our leadership is strained enough as it is and I will not tolerate bickering in this meeting!" Yamamoto continued. "Now let us discuss the situation like civilized adults!"

Nanao chose that moment to speak from her post next to the Captain-Commander. "Well, it's clear that this 'National Anti-Terrorism Agency' is clearly a front for some other organization, since the address clearly isn't in Japan."

"Ne, Urahara-san, were you able to glean anything from the stuff Hitsugaya-kun brought back?" Kyoraku asked.

"That's Hitsugaya _Taicho_," Toshiro muttered.

"Well, we've confirmed the location listed in the wallet. A reiatsu scan has indeed picked up traces of Matsumoto Fukutaicho in a large military industrial complex there. As for the zanpakutou, we've confirmed that it is indeed Bombadil's Glamdring. It matches the spirit DNA perfectly."

"How is it alive?" Ukitake asked. "Is Bombadil alive somewhere?"

"No, we know with certainty that he is dead. We have a valid death certificate for him, with a lot of photographic evidence surrounding his death. We even checked the system to make sure no one had tampered with the records."

"I can't imagine Glamdring was a sigma weapon," Unohana thought out loud. "Is it a chi blade?"

"Negative," Urahara answered. "We've confirmed that it is definitely not a chi blade."

"Then what is it?" Renji asked.

"We're honestly not sure. It's unlike anything we've really ever seen - it's as if it's been resurrected somehow. It seems to declare whomever holds it the owner, although we're not sure whether there's any meaning behind it or if that's just Glamdring's personality. We're still running some tests."

"Do we think that could have been the same thing with Ragnarok?" Toshiro asked.

"Hrunting, as well," Byakuya noted. "The hollows that were responsible for the death of Zaraki Taicho were wielding swords. Kira Fukutaicho reported that one of them was released with the name 'Hrunting'. At the time, we assumed that perhaps the adjuchas had some sort of an arrancar-like release; perhaps this blade is like the others you mentioned."

"It's certainly possible," Urahara replied. "We did find a well-known zanpakutou matching that name and description in the records, and its owner is long since dead. We're running some toxicology reports now that will probably confirm it. For now, though, we've given these swords a new classification. They have all been categorized as blades of epsilon; seemingly resurrected weapons of unknown cause."

Komamura spoke. "Do you have any leads as to how these zanpakutou are being revived?"

"Not yet," Urahara answered. "Rantao Fukutaicho is combing our records and trying to find out if there's anything that fits our scientific parameters. But we don't even know if 'resurrected' is the right word. It may be something along the lines of cloning, with the ability to somehow copy the memories of the zanpakutou before it died. We're really not sure."

"We need to put together a rescue mission right away," Toshiro interrupted. "We know enough to know that these humans are clearly dangerous."

Kyoraku thought out loud. "The rescue team should probably be sent without zanpakutou of their own. If this organization is capable of reviving dead zanpakutou, they might be able to steal living ones, too."

Soifon eagerly rejoined the conversation. "A perfect mission for the Onmitsukido. We are trained to infiltrate, and all of us excel in hand-to-hand combat."

"Or the 5th," Kuukaku suggested. Byakuya wasn't sure if she was just trying to irk Soifon, or if there was something else up her sleeve. "Kido is an extremely valuable skill if zanpakutou are not available."

"The Kido Corps are also trained in infiltration," Nanao remarked matter-of-factly.

"The 13th needs to join the mission, with the aim of disrupting their interference in our hollow-hunting activities," Ukitake commented.

"They also might have Chad," Ichigo added. "I want in."

Yamamoto debated these points for a moment. "I agree with Kyoraku Taicho that we cannot afford to let any more zanpakutou fall into their hands. Ultimately, not every captain can charge into their fortress; we need a small group of individuals well-suited for the task.

"Soifon Taicho, you may take one member of the Covert Ops with you. Ise Shosho will accompany you to support you with Kido as needed. Ukitake Taicho may send one representative from the 13th who is well-versed in kido. No one may take a zanpakutou."

"Soutaicho-dono, it's my vice captain, I should lead the rescue team!" Hitsugaya interruped.

"Quiet," he commanded. "We cannot afford to send more than one captain, and without your zanpakutou, you are not the asset the mission will need. You are better suited here to fight off any other hollows that attack Sereitei with living weapons."

Hitsugaya seethed, but let it go; he knew he couldn't change the captain-commander's mind. Ichigo could relate, he knew the Soutaicho would shoot him down, too. Ichigo wasn't much without Zangetsu; and besides, Rukia would be on the mission for sure.

"Yamamoto-soutaicho," Kuukaku suggested. "I have no intention of offending Ise-san, but I would like to suggest sending Hinamori Fukutaicho as the kido expert on the mission. She has been training hard these past few years and deserves the opportunity to prove herself."

"I second that decision," Soifon suggested eagerly.

"And I vote against it," Byakuya noted, speaking up. He was going to suffer for it later, but it was the right thing to do. "I have full confidence in Hinamori Fukutaicho's abilities, but with all due respect to Soifon Taicho, it would be wise for someone of higher rank on the mission to insure that no one is... rash."

Soifon fumed, standing out of line to look at him like she was about to kick his ass. "Are you suggesting that I can't properly lead this mission?"

Byakuya opened his eyes and turned his stony gaze right at her. He hadn't forgiven her for the 'soft' comment she made at the last captain's meeting. "I am suggesting a system of checks and balances, Soifon Taicho, and you would be wise to _get back in line."_

Nanao closed her eyes, nonchalantly removed her glasses and polished them. Just about everyone in the room paused at that particular gesture, waiting until she replaced them before daring to say a word. "I have no vested interest in leading the expedition, Soifon Taicho. If the captains feel that Hinamori Fukutaicho is appropriate for the mission, so be it."

"Let's put it to a vote, then," Kuukaku offered, glaring at Byakuya. He was _so_ going to sleep on the couch tonight. And she was going to make Yachiru a get-well card with a big bag of chocolate and sign it _'from Byakushi'_. "Hinamori-san."

"Hinamori-kun," Soifon voted.

"Ise Shosho," Unohana stated. "Hinamori may be a kido expert, but she is still used to being able to rely on her zanpakutou."

"Ise Shosho," Byakuya voted, hoping that Kuukaku wouldn't stamp on his foot.

"Hinamori-san," Komamura said. "She is a former acting captain, and an impressive shinigami with excellent skills. The enemy will most certainly underestimate her, which will only benefit the mission. She deserves the opportunity."

"No disrespect to Momo-chan, but if I don't pick Nanao-chan, she's going to make me pay for it later," Kyoraku half-teased. Soifon glared at him but it had no affect.

Renji hesitated. "Unohana Taicho has a point. I vote for Ise-shosho, but I wish we could send both."

"Hinamori Fukutaicho," Toshiro said quickly. Momo would get the job done, for his sake. He trusted her. Not that he thought any less of Ise, but this was Matsumoto. She was practically family, and family business is family business. Momo _had_ to go.

Urahara sighed. "My, my. Four apiece. I can't say I'm familiar with Hinamori-san, so I suppose Ise-san should go."

Jushiro thought for a moment. "I believe Hinamori Fukutaicho deserves the chance. She proved in the Winter War that she is well-versed in stealth techniques and can infiltrate undetected."

"I cast my vote for Ise Shosho," Yamamoto said definitively, settling the matter. "However, let it be stated for the record that if I were to allow zanpakutou on this mission, I would have chosen Hinamori Fukutaicho," he said honestly. "Rest assured, there will be other opportunities for her to prove herself."

Kuukaku sighed. "Hai, Soutaicho-dono," she agreed reluctantly. "Thank you for at least considering the matter," she added begrudgingly, acknowledging that it was rare for Yamamoto to take suggestions at all.

"Very well. Ukitake Taicho, who do you select as a representative from the 13th?"

"Kuchiki Fukutaicho, Yamamoto-san."

"Soifon Taicho, who from the Onmitsukido will accompany you?"

Soifon smirked. "Omaeda," she said, grinning like the devil.

Yamamoto raised an eyebrow. "...Is that so?"

Soifon snorted. "If he's lucky, he'll survive and be better for it. If I'm lucky, he'll get himself killed and I can finally promote Hana San Seki to the vice captain seat. Either way, everyone wins."

The captain-commander did everything he could not to roll his eyes. Since when did Soifon become so childish? "Omaeda Fukutaicho will accompany you, then." Turning his attention to his Nanao, he continued. "Ise Shosho, for the purposes of this mission, you will report to Soifon Taicho. Do you have a problem with that?"

"None at all," Nanao smiled. She was just happy she was going to get some field time. If she had to spend one more minute with Fuwu-san, she was going to kill herself. Actually, no; she would just kill Fuwu. That would be much more gratifying.

"So be it. Dismissed," he said, rapping the end of his staff on the floor.

The captains shuffled out, but Soifon stopped Nanao before she could leave. "You don't deserve to be on this mission at all," she spat. "You're slow and have poor close-quarter combat skills. You're more flashy than Shiba Kuukaku's pyrotechnic parties. You don't even know the meaning of the word 'stealth'. You couldn't surprise a deaf and blind man, much less invade a military compound undetected. So I don't care one piece of shit about your rank, you're going to follow my orders. Are we clear?"

"Of course, Soifon-_kun_," Nanao replied sardonically with her eyes squinted like snake slits.

"Don't trifle with me," Soifon threatened.

"I would never _dare_," Nanao responded, mockery lacing every syllable. "I'm sure that without anyone back home to care about whether you live or die, you are the only one capable of making the hard decisions." With that, Nanao turned her back on the pissy captain and left.

-:-

It had been a brutally stressful day at the office, but Isane was in a great mood. There were few days that left her feeling proud of herself. It was hard to remember that the 4th was a set of hard-working, talented individuals who saved countless of lives at her level. As lieutenant, she was always treating the worst cases; patients who would likely never survive the care of a less skilled medic. So while some of the lower seats who treated less fatal injuries might have felt like they made a difference, it was a rare day that Isane saved any meaningful quantity of lives.

On good days, there were no catastrophic traumas to be attended to, and Isane could get away with overseeing the other top seats treat a wide array of patients. She would catch up on paperwork, insure the stockroom was well supplied, and other administrative tasks that typically accumulated during the busy times. On the days when there were tragedies, though, Isane was knee deep in treatments, procedures, operations, and pharmcological counseling. Those were the days when Isane felt a sense of accomplishment if she came out with a seventy-five percent survival rate.

Today, though, every one of her seven patients survived. It was a mark of extreme pride, especially saving her fellow lieutenant. Besides Yachiru, two other shinigami from the 8th had been severely injured when a building collapsed on them due to a hollow attack out in the Rukongai. Both had suffered collapsed lungs, completely broken ribcages, shattered collarbones, and massive internal hemoraging. Isane knew from many similar previous patients that survival rates for injuries like this were miniscule - two percent, at best - but she had somehow managed to save them with some quick thinking and some particularly precise kido combinations. It had really been a showcase of her medical talent.

The other four had been trivial cases - the 11th decided that it was due time for some alcohol poisoning along with their barbaric brawling they called sword pracice - and while it had been bad, they were easy to manage by comparison to her other accomplishments. Isane was an ace at sword wounds by now, anyway.

Still, Isane couldn't remember the last time she had gone seven for seven. Despite the loss of two very important assets to the Gotei 13 - Kenpachi Zaraki and Madarame Ikkaku - at the very least, Captain Ayasegawa and Vice Captains Kira and Kusajishi were alive for the moment. Ayasegawa was in _terrible_ shape - Isane heard the prognosis wasn't good - and Kira had suffered horrific injuries and would likely need months before his limbs could be restored to normal, assuming he didn't die from complications outright.

In fact, despite these terrible events, Isane didn't think anything could ruin her evening when she approached her apartment in the 4th division barracks. Isane thought it was cause to celebrate. She and Hanataro hadn't had a real date night in a while. All of the planning for the wedding - _squee!_ - had taken up most of their very limited free time, so a night off would be good.

The soft evening breeze flitted through her silver hair as she hummed happily, digging for her keys. After fumbling for them a bit, she managed to find the right one and entered her quarters. It didn't suprise her to see Hanataro's uniform already hanging up to dry on the small clothing rack. It was old hat to both of them: the first thing you did when you were done with your shift on the 4th was wash the day's blood and bile off your uniform and get it ready for tomorrow.

"Taro?" Isane called.

"I'm in the bathroom," she heard from down the hall.

Isane proceeded to put her keys and wallet in the little bin by the door and strip off her uniform. She tossed it into the washing basin next to the clothing rack but then hesitated. Deciding she wanted to share her good mood sooner rather than later, she began to undo her bust wrap, savoring the freedom it gave, and then massaged her sore breats for a moment. Afterwards, she stripped off her boxers. It was one of her many odd quirks, but she found that men's boxers from the real world fit better and were more comfortable than anything she could find in Soul Society, so that was her undergarment of choice. Tossing the wrap and the boxers into the hamper (to be washed separately, without the harsh chemicals designed to detoxify her uniform), Isane gave herself a quick inspection - trim and tidy - and stretched out lithely on the couch in the most inviting pose she could.

Hanataro came out after a moment in his futoshi, and as usual, he stopped short in surprise. Isane never got over how shocked he always was to see her naked, as though he never believed he deserved her. The look always made her feel remarkably special and unique, and-

_Wait a second..._ "'Taro, what happened to your eye?" she asked, sitting up for a moment.

His attention flickered for a moment as he registered the question. "Oh, it's n-n-nothing," he laughed meekly.

"That's not nothing!" she insisted. "That black eye is huge! When did you get that?"

He sat down next to her, leaning into her bosom. Isane wrapped her arms around him, trying to coax out the answer. "Just some drunks from the 11th," he replied.

"Again!" she said, annoyed as hell. Despite being the 4th seat, the 11th division still used Yamada Hanataro as their 4th division punching bag. It pissed off Isane to no end. Hanataro must have saved their sorry asses a thousand times, and they still beat the crap out of him whenever they felt like it.

"Yeah," Hanataro muttered. "They didn't take well to the news," he explained. "The 4th and 5th seats are in a mission on Earth right now, so the 11th is kind of in a bit of a headless panic. They just decided to take their frustrations out on me, as usual."

"They can't do that to you!"

He sighed and hugged her tightly, kissing her on the chest in an affectionate, loving gesture. "Whatever," he said. "They blame us, you know."

"Are you _serious_?" Isane said, simmering. The 11th was constantly blaming the 4th for not being able to save their idiots all the time. "There was nothing we could do! It was a miracle we barely managed to save Yachiru! Those _assholes_!"

"Shh," he said as he began to massage her taught shoulders. "I don't wanna think about it."

"No, Hanataro, I'm serious!" she dismissed him, agitated. "What are we going to do if that shiner doesn't go away by the wedding!"

"Isane-chan," he whispered. "Please, I don't want to talk about it. It was a tough day - Kira Fukutaicho was my only win today," he said. "I can't think about work, it's too much."

Isane took pity on him. Hanataro was a gentle, meek soul who only excelled through sheer force of will. He had clawed his way up the ranks to 4th seat by working his tail off, working impossibly hard to overcome his natural inclination to be an awkward klutz. He strained himself because he wanted her to be proud of him - and she was. He was the only man who had ever felt like she was worth impressing, and Isane cherished him for it. Isane also knew that if she pushed him past his point of tolerance, he was just going to feel stressed out and overwhelmed. At the end of the day, Hanataro was just a humble guy trying to make the best of the meager skills life gave him. There was only so much he could get away with resisting his fate. "I understand," she said, still frustrated that the man she loved was so badly mistreated. "I'm sorry."

He gave her bare breast another gentle kiss, as if to say she shouldn't worry about it. "How about you?" he asked, trying to be polite. As much as she knew he didn't want to talk about work, he was a good man who always gave her everything he had, even when he didn't have what to give. She could see that his back was badly bruised, too; and it made her chest burn with indignant sadness that most shinigami would never see in her.

Isane forced herself to let it go - for now - and sweetly kissed him on the forehead. "Seven for seven," she said happily.

Hantaro's grin was soft, warm, and loving. It didn't take long until her long, strong legs had wrapped around him; and all thoughts of work faded into oblivion as their lips and skin collided in carnal affection. Just like soon-to-be-newlyweds should.

-:-

"Rantao Fukutaicho," Akon called to his new vice captain. "The Head Lieutenant is here to see you. I'm going to be somewhere far, far away. Call me when she's back."

Rantao gave him a puzzled look, but he had already exited stage left when the diminutive lieutenant of the 13th division marched confidently into the room. Kuchiki Rukia had an intensely commanding presence - one dared not forget that they were standing in the presence of a Grand Lady of the Four Houses. Despite being a meager 4'8" tall - almost an entire foot shorter than Rantao - Rantao felt ludicrously small in her presence, like a beetle looking up at the Statue of Liberty. Her stern, cold features were emotionless, and her piercing indigo eyes looked like they already knew all of your dirty little secrets. Not that Rantao had too many - she was too boring for dirty little secrets, and one was more than enough - but the metaphor was a good one.

Rukia gave a furtive look of displeasure over to the departing Akon. Rantao could tell it was clear that they didn't care for each other. On the other hand, Rantao knew that Akon was not very well liked in the 12th. Urahara Taicho certainly didn't like his third seat very much. Although Rantao was annoyed by his constant stench of cigarette smoke, she got along with him. He was your typical lab rat; Rantao spent enough time with worse than him to be able to tolerate the little devil.

Or is it demon? I should probably find out before I say something that offends him.

"Rantao Fukutaicho," the tiny-yet-larger-than-life noblewoman greeted her, in a tone that was surprisingly warmer than Rantao expected from her appearance.

Kiku bowed in deference to her superior officer. "Head Lieutenant Kuchiki," she returned. "To what do I have the honor?"

Seemingly done with pleasantries, the 13th division vice captain went straight into the reasons for her visit. "I apologize for the abrupt and impromptu meeting, Rantao Fukutaicho. As you know, the 13th division is the division primarily responsible for hollow hunting and soul burial operations in the World of the Living. As upper management of the 13th division, that means the entire world is of my concern."

Rantao nodded, sweating slightly. The 12th division was by far the smallest, and she had trouble remembering that she was responsible for three hundred shinigami. The 13th division officially had over fifteen thousand members. The woman in front of her commanded forces larger than she could comprehend.

"Well, right now, we have some humans that seem to be intruding on our job, and by now I'm sure you know that they have Matsumoto Fukutaicho. Ukitake-sama informed me that Urahara Taicho has instructed you to analyze the zanpakutou classification files. I've come to discuss the data with you in preparation for a mission to invade their headquarters."

The bespectacled woman nodded and turned to her computer, where she began to type rapidly. The truth was that Rantao Kiku had all the information memorized already, but the less she had to look the scary woman in the eyes, the better. "According to our files, there are roughly three hundred cases of known chi blades, but we've dismissed those based on our recent diagnostics on Glamdring. I presume you've been informed of the classifications?"

Rukia nodded. "Some of them - the ones that Urahara-san discussed in the captain's meeting. Of course, I assume that there may be others, but I heard about the eta, theta, omicron, sigma and omega statuses."

"Yes," Rantao agreed, happy to get into a groove. She was comfortable in her element, and let that carry the conversation. "The sigma, omicron, and omega cases were the next classifications I looked into; since those are likely the most powerful zanpakutou in our files. As I'm sure you're aware, omicron, omega, and sigma classifications are extremely rare."

"Do we have statistics about them? Does any important information stand out?"

"Yes," Rantao confirmed with an enthusiastic and knowing nod as she pointlessly pounded keys and gazed into the screen in order to avoid eye contact. "Notably, I cross-referenced them against the eta and theta labels, as well as other classifications in the search. There were some very interesting anomalies."

"Eta means the owner achieved shikai, correct? I can't imagine that any blade could earn an omega status without shikai, nor could I ever see a spirit king ascending the throne without bankai; so all of the omicron weapons should have that status, too. "

"Correct," Rantao confirmed. "One hundred percent of omega and omicron weapons intersected with the eta classification. In fact, one hundred percent of the omicron zanpakutou had theta status as well, which is exactly as you theorize."

"What about the sigma weapons?"

"That's where it gets interesting. Sigma and omicron blades are two of the most rare classifications, but the sigma blades are different in the sense that because they can have multiple owners over time, so it's not always clear. For example, Kosaka Sojiro was a previous wielder of Hyorinmaru. He never achieved bankai, but Hyorinmaru still has a theta classification because Hitsugaya Taicho and others have used it to achieve bankai."

"Hmmm... What about the cross-references? Are any of the omicron weapons also omega weapons?"

"That's where it gets interesting. The omicron weapons are, unsurprisingly, a mix: some are omega weapons, some are sigma weapons, some are simple gamma weapons with no other special classifications. But there is only one sigma weapon that also has an omega status."

"Really? Only _one_ of the sigma weapons has an omega status? I don't know about you, but Ryuujin Jakka seems pretty scary. Any weapon whose force was theoretically involved in creating the universe has got to be pretty serious," Rukia commented offhand. "How dangerous does a zanpakutou have to be to earn an omega status?"

Rantao was not keen on answering this question, considering that she had an omega weapon herself. "...Not all omega weapons are 'scary'." Although some of them are, Rantao thought. Ise Nanao's zanpakutou is terrifying, and I can't even access the theta files that talk about her bankai. There's so many security clearances needed to see it that I doubt even the Soutaicho himself could access it. The shikai documentation alone gives me the absolute creeps.

Rukia blinked a few times, slightly puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." Rantao squirmed. "Uh, a zanpakutou may, uh, give the wielder a completely unfair or unexpected advantage, rather than be particularly deadly on its own."

Rukia nodded. "Aha - like Aizen's Kyouka Suigetsu."

"_Yes;_ Kyouka Suigetsu is on the omega list, _exactly,_" Rantao continued enthusiastically, thankful there was no need to pursue that particular line of questioning anymore. "In any case, there's only one sigma weapon that's also tagged with an omega status, and it has quite an interesting history."

"Which zanpakutou is that?"

Rantao took a deep breath. "The Genesis Weapon."

* * *

_Extra credit to those of you who pulled out a DSM4 for this chapter. Reviews, please! Next chapter: Secrets! More plot unfolds - don't miss it!_


	15. The Darkened Twist of Black

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_"You think she's scared? Are you kidding me? Kuchiki Hisako, scared? Psh, Sako-chan isn't scared of anyone. Well, except maybe Hinamori Fukutaicho; but c'mon, _everyone_ is afraid of __her.__"  
~Shihoin Zarina, rolling her eyes; almost two hundred years from now_

* * *

I was so happy to see the door to my library open. I missed him. I hadn't seen him since yesterday, and I wish I had told him to stay with me. The light was very distracting, but I suffered it until he shut the door. My breasts swelled with excitement, and I turned my head to him. I take off my glasses, folding them neatly and tucking them into my book. He thought I looked cute without them. The gesture was returned with a soft and tender smile that I loved to see.

I could tell that he was stressed, but he looked relieved to see me. I was so relieved to see him. I wanted to make him happy today.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

He was always so thoughtful to ask me this every day. "No," I answered. He had brought me a very nice meal yesterday consisting of my favorite sushi with onigiri. He knows it's my favorite, and he brought me grapefruit juice to drink, like usual. I had saved some in the little refrigerator next to my bed here in the library, and I had eaten some only an hour ago.

"Thirsty?"

I like it when he asks me this separately. It is thoughtful of him to think that I might want to drink but not eat. "No," I answer. I still had juice leftover from yesterday; he was nice enough to bring me a whole bottle.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No," I supplied. I like it in here. I excercise every morning, doing my calisthenics before I take a shower in the library bathroom, just like Unohana Taicho taught me. I have the sunlight from the window. And besides, it's overwhelming outside. There's so much noise, and too many people. It's so hard to focus. I feel so awkward around people I don't know. It's quiet here. Much better to stay inside.

"Do you want a hug?"

No, I don't want a hug. I don't like them. It involves touching everywhere. I don't like them at all. Besides, a hug is a paternal or fraternal thing. I don't want to feel like his sister, and I don't want to make him feel like my brother. "No."

"A kiss?"

Finally! "Yes."

I hungrily kiss him, taking in his musky breath, the taste of his presence, his caressing lips allowing me to tell him how much I love him. I missed him so much today.

I could feel every hair and piece of stubble on his face tickling me, the 763 fibrous tendrils stroking against the 6.34 square sensitive millimeters of my upper lip, sending 763 shivers down my spine. I want to be able to hold him, to tell him I love him, to make love to him, but I can't do that. It makes me uncomfortable.

Some people would probably find me paradoxical - able to kiss so intimately but unable to touch. I don't know, that's just how I am. I like kissing. It feels good. I can pull away whenever I want. I don't feel trapped; I feel like I can escape if I need to. It's not that I want to escape, but this way I don't have to think about it. I don't have to get anxious and let that disturb the experience. I can give him my full attention without being caught up in anything else. I like that.

Some days I wish he would just ask me if he could take off my clothes, and I would say yes, but he never does. Even if I don't like being touched, I know he would at least enjoy seeing me without clothes on. I think I would even enjoy letting him see me naked. I wish he would ask me this one day. Maybe he's afraid I would get angry with him. Or maybe he's afraid that he won't be able to restrain himself. I don't know - we still don't understand that part of each other so well. I love him very much and I feel so electrified when I kiss him. I lick the inside of his mouth affectionately, wanting him to know how wonderful he is to me, trying to explain that I wish that he would figure out how to ask the right question.

I feel sad inside that he won't ever be able to understand. I wish I could find a way to tell him, but I don't like talking. It's uncomfortable - all that air rushing up your lungs and passing through your throat and having to move your mouth and lips and twist your tongue to form words - I don't like doing that. I'd rather twist my tongue to kiss my beloved.

Still, I know talking is a necessary evil. I only do it if I have to. But I'm not really thinking about it too much right now. I'm too busy sliding around his teeth, searching for his tongue; finding a way to tell him how much I love him without needing to actually verbalize it. I guess I could give him a few books to explain it, but I think that would make me feel dirty.

I pull away after we've been making out for exactly six minutes, thirty-three seconds, and 763 milliseconds. I timed the milliseconds just right to match the delicious 763 hairs on his face that tickled me and made me feel so warm all over.

He is straining to catch his breath when he asks me the next question. I feel terrible. I know that this is so hard for him; but I take solace that he loves me and knows that I can't give him more than that right now. I still feel bad, though. I wish I could give him more. I want to give him more. I do. But I can't. Maybe one day, we'll figure it out. I hope so.

"Are you happy here?"

"Yes." Of course I'm happy here. I have everything I need. Food, clothing, all the juice and soda I want, and books. So many books. I love books. He always brings me new ones once a week, and I have so many wonderful adventures in them. But most of all, I have you. You come to me. Not too often, where I would feel overwhelmed; and not too infrequently. You even let me tell you when you should come and when you should stay. It's a paradise here, and you treat me so well. Of course I'm happy. Any woman would be happy with someone as wonderful as you. Of course, having Stockholm Syndrome probably has something to do with why I'm happy here, but even if I didn't have Stockholm, I would still be happy whenever you visit me.

"Would you like to fix something today?"

"Yes," I answer. He looks so stressed, and I know that every time I fix something he seems relieved. All I want to do is make him happy today - I missed him so much since yesterday. Besides, I'm in a good mood and I feel up to it.

"Okay," he says, and I see the relief coming to his shoulders. I wait for him to leave and come back, and when he enters, he has a pole.

A pole! Something new. I've never fixed a pole before. I'm excited!

I study it carefully. It's red, with slight golden rings at the end. Well, I say red, but it's not purely red. On an RGB scale, it's actually saturated at 83.324380643% red, 16.7838400001% green, and 32.9999976311110123% blue. So it's not completely red. Just mostly. The gold is clearly only 12.000123556 carats, and somehow I get the vibe that it's been blended with pure aluminum. Not the surface-factored aluminum oxide, but pure aluminum; which is noteworthy. The shaft itself is made out of carbon fiber, and I guess it weighs somewhere around 2.347294131 kilograms and is about 1.7482300001 meters long with a diameter of about 2.879 centimeters.

Can't people make these things an even number? Sheesh. A 3.000 centimeter diameter would have been so clean. Is it so hard? Oh well.

My attention focuses like a laser on the north end as I lay it down on the small table in the back of the library so that I can get a better look. Approximately 154 millimeters from the north end (the side with the magnetic force of 0.00002138 amp-turns that clearly points towards magnetic north), the pole has a subtle line in the fiber that appears to be 0.023089 millimeters deep. I study it for a moment as I pull out my pocketknife from my shihakusho. I wasn't in the mood to dress pretty today, so I just put on my shinigami uniform. It still fits comfortably, even after all these years.

Very interesting, very interesting. I pull out the screwdriver attachment and slowly press into the line. Yep, there it is. I can feel the resonance now at 2.569182E-65 amplicores. Very, very faint. Hmmmmmmmmm.

I turn the screwdriver on my pocketknife 0.000000111363 degrees counterclockwise and check the resonance. No difference. I turn back to the original starting point and then turn clockwise precisely the same amount as I did before, and I can feel the resonance increase by 1.2E-66 amplicores. Not bad. It may be fixable after all. Based on the halflife of the carbon, I can approximate that this pole isn't very old; maybe only 32 years, 7 months, 9 days, 23 hours, 36 minutes, 11 seconds, and an even 400 milliseconds. I'm a bit annoyed that I can't measure the nanoseconds for something so young, but the resonance is too weak to confirm it and I don't like to be imprecise.

Carefully, I apply 0.0000292 PSI of pressure into the line, then slide the screwdriver tip 0.0000012111 millimeters towards the north end. The resonance spikes (well, logarithmically, anyway), with a 2.6E-64 amplicore increase. Hmmmmmmm.

I put down my pocketknife for a minute, and then roll the pole over onto the other side (a perfect 180 degrees, thank you very much!). I see a similar line in the carbon fiber, although this one is only 2.00 millimeters from the edge of the golden/aluminum ring. I put the scewdriver into it and all of a sudden, I can feel the screw.

Niiiiice! That was easier than expected. Turning the screwdriver 0.000000111363 degrees clockwise again, the resonance explodes into a nice, healthy 0.0002034 amplicores. I put my multipurpose knife back in the pocket of my uniform, and then I put my hands on the pole. It thrums nicely and I can feel the subtle tactile texture of the nonslip carbon fibers in my palms. Seems good to me.

I look up into his eyes, staring in them. They are a complex mixture of happiness and sadness, of relief and pain. I don't like the way they look - I want him to be happy, so I blink twice.

He smiles, and I can hear him exhale. I adore that smile. "I love you, too," he says, and I blink back.

I am suddenly exhausted and need to rest, so I sit back down in my chair and resume my book. It's very entertaining - it's about a woman who fixes cars during the day and sleeps with men at night for a living. I could never do that kind of nighttime work, but I think there are some very funny stories in it.

"Would you like me to stay?"

"Yes," I answer. I know you want the company, and even though I'm too tired to give you my attention, I know you just like being here with me.

I'm too busy reading to see him smile, but I know he does. He takes the pole, hands it out through the door to someone I don't ever see, and then sits down on my bed quietly. I can't tell how long it is since I'm not paying attention to the time, but I hear him eventually lie down, and shortly thereafter I hear him snoring.

I put down my book. Poor thing must have been exhausted.

I fetch a blanket from the linen closet in the bathroom and cover him. He's deeply asleep, and I know he won't wake up until 6:03am tomorrow morning. I decide that I'm feeling brave today and reach out to touch his face with my index finger. It feels nice, even though it makes me uncomfortable. I brush a loose strand of hair away from his handsome face and carefully tuck it behind his ear. I tried not to, but my finger grazes the lobe, and I am surprised that it doesn't bother me too much.

I am so grateful that this time, my love could see me from the very beginning.

I sit back down in my chair and resume my book.

-:-

"...That's not what I think it is, right?" Rukia asked.

Rantao's face contorted into a confused expression. "I... do you know about Genesis?"

"...No," said Rukia. But I can guess. "Tell me about it."

"Genesis was classified as the sigma force that was supposedly used to create life in the universe. According to these files, it had complete control over plant and microbial life, and had incredible biological qualities. In bankai form, it could create matter arbitrarily."

Rukia paused. "You said it had an interesting history. Anything stand out?"

"Not sure if I've found anything relevant yet. I haven't had time to delve too deeply, but according to the documentation in these files, it seems like it has quite an incredible story. The first recorded wielder is about four thousand years ago, from when we first started keeping zanpakutou registers. Genesis was owned by a seemingly eccentric 7th division captain."

"How so?"

"She was apparently a huge feminist, because despite the Asian customs that are commonplace in Sereitei, Haru Mia hyphenated her name after she married into nobility. After being a captain for twenty years, it would have been more likely that she simply keep her maiden name. Even more astonishing, her husband Isuzu Kyon didn't even seem to care that he married someone from common stock."

"It does sound unusual," Rukia agreed. "Although captaincy in the Gotei 13 is a position of distinction. It's not that uncommon for captains to marry nobility, regardless of their family history."

Rantao filed that information away for later. It was always good to know these things. "I suppose I'll need to learn bankai if I ever want to marry Kyoraku-san, then," she laughed nervously.

Rukia restrained herself from laughing out loud, as it was unbefitting of her position to openly mock another member of nobility. Not that she wouldn't point and laugh at Shunsui if it was just her and Nanao, but it wasn't appropriate in front of Rantao. Rukia knew all about Kyoraku's pursuit of the new lieutenant, but thought it best to pretend that she didn't know. "I was not aware that he was courting you," she lied gracefully, hoping to give Rantao a means of delicately extricating herself.

Kiku's eyebrows arched in surprise, but then she simply shrugged. "In any case, Haru Taicho served under Yang Soutaicho for half a century before she retired. Supposedly, Genesis made her one of the most powerful captains to serve in centuries. Documents on her bankai abilities indicate that she was capable of reshaping the terrain, changing climate conditions, controlling armies of hollows to do her bidding, and even completely altering the fabric of the universe at whim. The powers and capabilities enumerated here are simply awesome."

Rukia thought it amusing that a shinigami with seemingly godlike abilities was a woman. Nanao and Kiyone would find that particularly useful information, she inaudibly chuckled to herself. "What happened after she retired?" Rukia asked.

"Not clear, but a cross check with the personnel data indicates that we know Haru-Isuzu Mia died, since Genesis resurfaced under a new owner more than twenty-five hundred years later."

Rukia stomach tightened as she did everything she could not to let her Kuchiki mask fall off in a fit of laughter. "Did you just say, 'Haruhi Suzumiya'?"

It was one of Rukia's secret indulgences. Ever since she had spent so much time on Earth over a decade ago, she had become hooked on manga. She figured it was a harmless form of entertainment; something to decompress with considering her insanely stressful life. The fact that her best friend, Ise Nanao, also enjoyed manga gave her someone to joke about it with, and made her feel slighly less immature about it. Matsumoto was their supplier - whenever she went to the real world, she picked up nearly a case of new tankobons. The dirty ones went to Nanao, the _really_ dirty ones Matsumoto kept for herself, and Rukia got the rest; occasionally passing some of the better ones to Nanao. It didn't strike Rukia as appropriate to divulge this particular set of facts in front of the new lieutenant.

Rantao gave her an awkward, puzzled look. "No, I said 'Haru-Isuzu Mia'."

Rukia stifled an amused sigh. "Nevermind. Continue."

"Based on what I can tell from the personnel files, we might want to talk to Unohana Taicho. It says here that the next and last recorded wielder of Genesis was the 4th division 20th seat around six hundred and twenty years ago."

"Who? What do we know about him?"

"Her, actually. It appears the 20th seat at that time was a woman by the name of Naga Toyuki."

" 'Nagato Yuki'?" Rukia said, a smile escaping. This was too funny.

The middle-aged brunette gave her another look. "No... 'Naga Toyuki'."

Rukia bit her tongue to keep herself from laughing. "What else do we know?"

"Naga-san was apparently a very gifted shinigami in the field of medicine, and is recorded as having captain-level skills in medical kido, in fact some of the greatest skills ever recorded on file."

"Not surprising with a zanpakutou that had domination over life."

"Yes, of course. But 20th seat seems like an unusual end point for sigma-bearing shinigami. Surprisingly, it's unclear if she ever reached shikai or bankai. Since Genesis has both an eta and theta classification left over from Haru Taicho, I can't say for certain. I should also note that a signficant portion of the personnel file is sealed."

"Alright, so what else do we know?"

"Not much. Genesis has no recorded wielders past that point."

"In other words, Nagato-san could still be alive."

"Naga-san."

"Whatever."

"Yes, I suppose that's technically possible."

"So the Genesis Weapon is still unaccounted for." Rukia thought for a moment, but then looked back at the computer screen for some unknown reason. "Are there any other notable weapons you found? Ones that stood out?"

"Well, there is one classification, the zeta category, that has only one blade in it; an eta-theta-zeta-beta katana named Sode no Shirayuki. Urahara-san locked it, so I don't have clearance to look at the file; although there's a picture of the shikai here," Rantao said, pointing to the computer screen. "It's an absolutely stunning katana, quite possibly the most beautiful I've ever seen. Don't you think?"

Rukia barely managed to restrain herself from laughing out loud. "I suppose it has some charm," she replied, trying to be humble.

"You know of it?" Rantao asked.

"I've seen it once or twice," Rukia answered vaguely, not wanting to embarrass the new lieutenant.

"It's quite stunning," Rantao said. "Very beautiful. But that ribbon seems so impractical. I'm sure a skilled swordsman would find it a nuisance, don't you think?"

Rukia closed her eyes and sighed. Had Ichigo been there, he surely would have teased her for looking like Byakuya. "I don't think we have to worry about that one, Rantao-san. Any other zanpakutou of interest?"

"I did a review of the other omega zanpakutou, and I did find three others that were noteworthy, because the dead zanpakutou were never found."

"Now that sounds promising," Rukia said. "Which ones?"

"Well, the most recent omega weapon of the three was a sword that belonged to a former 3rd seat of your division, Hikifune Miyako; who later married and changed her name to Shiba Miyako."

"Clara!" Rukia gasped, nearly choking on her own tongue. "_Clara _was an omega weapon?"

"Ah, yes, I guess it makes sense that you would recognize it. Yes, it's classified as an omega weapon; although I can't tell you why. Ise Shosho has sealed most of the file with General Rank Only clearance. Do you know anything about it?"

"No, I have no idea what her zanpakutou did," Rukia replied. _Nanao, what are you hiding?_ "But I'll talk with Ise Shosho about it. What about the other two?"

Rantao pulled them up on the computer. "Joyeuse," she began. "Joyeuse was a zanpakutou owned by a shinigami defector named Cornistas, who was upset that he was not promoted to captain. He was executed about two hundred and fifty years ago for trying to instigate rebellion, along with his son, Hiyama. Central 46 seized the dead sword after his death, but no one knows what happened to it afterwards."

Why keep a sword like that in lockup? Rukia wondered. Wouldn't it be better to melt it down, and never have to worry about it ever again? Rukia had lots of questions and not enough answers. "Why was it an omega weapon?"

"This one is truly terrifying: Joyeuse was known for its morality manipulation capabilities. During the rebellion, Cornistas used it to turn his rebels into amoral horrors, capable of insane acts of cruelty even against their own family members. The file is actually affixed with several captain's petitions to have Central 46 offer proof that the sword was melted down, for fear that someone would try to use it to make a chi blade."

She nodded. "And the last omega weapon?"

"Heaven's Will," she answered.

Where have I heard that name before? Rukia wondered. Ugh, I can't remember.

"A similar story to Masamune. Shinigami falls in love with a human, goes to earth in a gigai, has a human/shinigami hybrid son who manifests early on and ends up with a powerful omega blade. In this case, though, what makes it exceptional is that the zanpakutou should have disappeared, since it was born from a human soul. For some reason still unknown, the physical blade remained. The file has been badly corrupted, though, so I can't tell you anything about its abilities." _Corrupted by a Mr. Aizen Sousoke, actually,_ Rantao knew; but didn't think it was worth mentioning.

Rukia wasn't even sure how to respond to that. "You mean there are documented cases of human/shinigami hybrids?" she blinked.

The 12th division vice captain nodded. "Yes, several," she explained. "Although personally, I can't imagine how a shinigami could ever fall in love with a human."

Rukia's face was already serious, but now it was grave with grinding sarcasm. "Yes, _I can't imagine _how that's possible."

Kiku cowered in her chair a little bit, nervous. Did she say something? "Um, is there anything else I can help you with, Head Lieutenant?"

The diminutive woman closed her eyes and sighed again. "No, thank you. I must be going. I will meet with Unohana Taicho and Ise Shosho to see if they can give me some more background information. In the meanwhile, please prepare some surveillance reports of the compound in Doverfield and get pinpoint coordinates for a senkai gate."

"_Hai,_ Fukutaicho-sama," she said. Actually, it was more like a squeak. Kiku waited apprehensively until the Grand Lady left the control tower, and then she elicited a sigh of relief. Wow, she sure is scary.

-:-

Momo was so overwhelmed that she couldn't even understand how she felt anymore. She was a nervous, anxious, awful wreck of a person now; fretting and second-guessing. Izuru was in the 4th division ICU right now, and he was a mess. What if he died? What if he died right after she threw away everything they had over some stupid misunderstanding? It was all her fault. She had once again been young and naive and stupid. Izuru and Momo had been seeing each other for ten years. She had overreacted. If she wasn't ready, she should have just said so; not call the whole thing off.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, _she thought. Momo tossed her fifth cigarette into the dirt, grinding it with her foot. Lighting a small kido-based flame on the tip of her finger, she started on her sixth. _If he doesn't make it, I'm never going to be able to forgive myself. _

I am being such an idiot, Momo thought. Izuru loves me, he's told me so many times. And here I am pretending like we should just be friends. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

She took a long drag on the cigarette, but it didn't help her jittery feeling. Momo had a highly addictive personality - she got head over heels into things way too easily - and now she was burning through two packs a day already, pun thoroughly intended. She made Akon of the 12th look like a casual smoker, and that was saying something. Of course, on top of everything else, Momo fretted about the stigma attached to the nasty habit, but the nicotine (usually) helped her calm down and now she couldn't stop.

Flicking the ashes to the side, Momo tried to think of all the things she should say to him when he woke up. She would tell him, first of all, that she was being immature and stupid; and then she would beg him to forgive her. Then she would explain how she was on a support mission out in the outer Rukongai districts when the incident happened, and that she had felt his reitsu and seen his signal; but by the time she made it, he was already in surgery. Momo would patiently explain that she was just a big emotional mess, and that if Izuru could bear with her, she would try to get over it.

Momo really did love him. She wasn't at all aware of it, of course. She was in complete denial. The last person she fell for - Aizen Taicho - destroyed her. To think that she could ever be that vulnerable again would just prove that she had learned nothing, or so she thought. It was that fallacy of thinking that kept Hinamori Momo from realizing the truth, and it nagged her. No matter how much she thought she didn't love Kira Izuru, she kept punishing herself for not being by his side right that moment. She may not believe that she loved him, but Momo understood well enough that he was too important to her for her to just throw him away.

She remembered the kisses; and how whenever she smiled at him, his eyes would light up and his gloom would disappear. Ten years ago, he was a different person; but now he was a bright man, filled with life and energy and enthusiasm. He had trimmed his hair short, into a neat gentleman's cut; he was handsome and attentive and sensitive. Because of her, Momo knew. Because he found in her what he needed; someone who shared his suffering, who knew what it was like to be betrayed. He forgot it all, choosing her instead. As Momo snubbed her sixth cigarette in an hour, she remembered all of the fun she'd had with him; going to museums and playing cards and go and chess and finding the best restaraunts and having Rukia-chan let them into the Kuchiki gardens or art galleries for an evening. She couldn't throw that all away; she had to beg him to take her back. There was no one else who could be so good to her.

"Hinamori Fukutaicho!"

Momo ground her cigarette into the ground, sighing at her own melancholy as she turned to see Hector Gustavo, her 18th seat, approaching. "Yes?"

"Hitamake San Seki sent me to look for you," he panted. "Kira Fukutaicho is going to make it."

Tears would have formed in Momo's eyes, but she was too anxious to be relieved. "Thanks," she replied. "Tell Hanzo-san I'm going to the hospital to go see him."

"Hai," he said reservedly. "But... there's something you might want to know before you go see him."

Momo's worry began to overwhelm her. "What? What is it? Is he okay?"

Gustavo rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, well, he's not in good shape, but that's not what I meant."

"I don't understand - what do you mean?"

Her subordinate looked quite uncomfortable, and began to squirm a bit as he began to explain. "Uh, Fukutaicho, I need to tell you some... uncomfortable information."

-:-

_One year ago _  
_Doverfield, Pennsylvania USA_

"Alright, gentlemen. Let's get started here." He surveyed the room and found everyone's attention satisfactory. Taking a sip of his coffee (black, no sugar, touch of cinnamon for character), he uncapped the projector and began.

"Intelligence indicates that the shinigami forces number in total at around fifty-two thousand. Of those, the core shinigami squads make up the overwhelming majority, numbered at around fifty thousand. The Kido Corps are a separate branch of their military, with approximately two thousand members or so. The remainder is a few handfuls of individuals that are considered close allies of their cause.

"What we are handing out now, gentlemen, are decks of cards bearing the names, faces, and details of the top 0.1% of the shinigami forces. This data is the best information we have as to who their elite soldiers are, and within two weeks, you should be able to recognize every single face in those packs. We're not sure if this information is up-to-date, but it's the best we have. So spend the next few days playing poker, or blackjack, hearts, spades, or old maid for all I care; but you're all going to be tested so don't get lazy."

He waited as the decks of cards were distributed.

"The spades, ace through thirteen, correspond to the thirteen shinigami captains, and the clubs represent their respective lieutenants. Every one of these black suited cards is a highly trained and experienced warrior. They are not to be underestimated, especially the captains. And some of the lieutenants are just as capable, so if you survive a bout with a captain don't think a lieutenant is going to necessarily be easier.

"The red suits are a bit harder to remember. First, the hearts: the first four hearts are the top four members of some human branch of the military. The captain and lieutenant are just as strong as the real shinigami, so don't get cocky. The remainder of the hearts are the gargoyles on Earth, which you've all heard about by now. The only exception is the Jack of Hearts. He's the sergeant right underneath the Black Jacks. He's on this list because he's supposedly got skills equivalent to the captains and lieutenants."

He paused and waited for the attentive nods to absorb this information.

"Alright, onto the diamonds. The ace and two of diamonds are the captain and lieutenant of the Kido Corps. Same caliber as the other captains and lieutenants. Three through six of diamonds - those are the Darkland gargoyles; we don't know too much about them. The face cards are former captains of the various military branches that are now officially retired; they are among the most capable individuals on this list. Now, the seven through ten of diamonds don't have faces - they are just reference cards. They contain information about the various branches of the military and the different species that make up the shinigami forces."

Waiting to see if there were any particular reactions from the crowd, he took another sip of his coffee. There were none, so he continued.

"Anyone on the cards in front of you should not be underestimated. Some of them are extremely dangerous, and are capable of extraordinary feats of magic, speed, or combat ability. From the information we have, more than half of the forty-odd individuals have Limit Breakers or some functional equivalent. I repeat, _do not_ underestimate them."

His agents were still and attentive, waiting for more information. "Alright, folks, now remember - the key is this: the shinigami don't need to be your enemy. They have a job, and we have a job. But if they do theirs, then we can't do ours. So you can reason with them - don't expect results, but you can try. If you get cocky and think you're the Big Shit Walking, you're going to make life difficult for yourself and for the rest of us. So leave them alone and hopefully they'll give us the same courtesy.

"Now, chances are that we will get into skirmishes from time to time. It's inevitable. But we don't need a fucking war with them, you hear me? You do your job, men, and then you won't have problems." He paused. "Are there any questions?"

"Sir, is there a particular likelyhood of us running into one of these individuals more than another?"

"Good question," the speaker answered. "It depends where you are stationed. The Tokyo region of Japan is the most concentrated area for the shinigamis' allied forces. Save for the Jack, you are ten times more likely to run into one of the Hearts in that area. Beyond that, the King of Clubs is the vice captain in charge of extermination on Earth, so you are more likely to meet her anywhere on the planet when compared to the other spades or clubs."

"Are there any individuals we should consider cause for immediate retreat?"

He frowned at the morale-crushing question, but he believed in open discussion, so he tolerated the inquiry. "Assuming adequate preparation, room for diplomacy, careful handling of the situation, and proper backup, none of these individuals should be beyond our capabilities. That being said, the Ace of Spades is _the_ chief military officer. From what we know, he's not the bargaining kind. It is highly unlikely he will come to the front lines, but if he does, it would take a squadron of our most elite forces to take him down if things got rough. We could if we needed to, but it wouldn't be pretty. Consider saving your energy and do your job elsewhere."

"Sir, what about individuals outside this deck of cards?"

The question was met with a short, derisive, laughing sneer. "If there was someone else we thought you would have a problem with, there wouldn't be cards in the deck without faces and names."

-:-

Kira Izuru's eyelids began to spread open, and a blurry, foggy, blinding haze of light wormed its way into his pupils. The antiseptic smell of hospital began to creep into his nostrils, and as he came to, he could make out the familiar shape of Hinamori Momo standing nearby. At first, he could only make her out by the blurry black robes ending oh-so-high, with a small white Chinese hairbun cover atop the blurry chocolate hair. It was a sight for his sore eyes.

But as greater and greater clarity came to his vision, Izuru was not welcomed by a warm, caring, or concerned Momo at his side. Instead, an imperious 5th division vice captain stood next to him, arms crossed in a contrarian, aggressive, confrontational pose. Her face was stricken with an angered, furrowed brow; and instead of her frequently worry-laced lips a-quivering, a dark and twisted scowl was barely hiding grinding, gnashing teeth.

"...Mo...mo?" he creaked, air whoozing out of him slowly. It took a great amount of energy just to breathe; forcing wind through his voicebox to form words was overly draining.

"Kira," she grunted. "Feeling okay?" she spat bitterly.

Huh? What's going on? Kira wondered. What's wrong? "...uh...?"

"I see your legs are rotted away," she said callously. Momo's glare condemned him as though he was guilty as sin. "It's a shame you lost your legs instead of your testicles."

What? Momo, what are you saying? What the -

"You bastard bitch," she whispered at him in a low, threatening voice; her arms folded sternly across her chest. "You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you?"

Huh? "...Mo..."

"That's it?" she simmered at him. "Not even 'sorry'?"

What? "...Mo..."

Before Izuru could fathom the excruciating task of speaking another syllable, he felt Momo's hand on Wabisuke. It wasn't the first time she had held it, but Wabisuke felt uneasy as Momo began to unsheath it and examine the blade in front of him, pretending as though he wasn't even there.

"Mo...mo..."

"What?" she spat. _"Speak already."_

"Whhyy...?"

_"Why?"_ she flared at him in hushed anger, not wanting to attract the attention of the hospital staff. "That's it? 'Why'? One night after we get into an argument, and that's it? You're an asshole, Izuru. I wouldn't sleep with you, so _you went__ out and hired a fucking prostitute?_"

_Oh shit,_ Izuru thought. _I am in so much fucking trouble. Someone must have seen me go in there with Renji. Oh god, I was so drunk. I-_

Momo's indignant simmering broke and tears began to form as the hurt, disappointment, and anguish broke through. "Is that all you ever wanted from me? To get laid? Is that all I ever was? Some naive girl you thought you could get into bed?"

What! No! Of course not! How could you think that! _Oh kami, I was so drunk, I don't even remember what happened._ "...N..."

_"Don't you dare ever speak to me again,"_ she menaced, slicing open Kira's cheek with his own zanpakutou. "You need a fuck that badly? Well, go fuck _yourself_ next time."

Kira's eyes widened as Momo lifted Wabisuke high above her head, preparing to split open Izuru's skull. _I deserve it,_ he thought. _Kill me, _his eyes pleaded. _It would be easier than enduring the agony of guilt my soul is now burdened with. _

Hinamori held the sword above her head, hesitating. It would be so easy; so easy to just kill him right here. It would feel so good; so righteous; so justified. She could feel Tobiume wanting her anger satiated: _How poetic, to kill a betrayer with their own sword. _

_I can see it now, _Momo thought back. _I could spray his blood and then burn his whole body to a charred ash. I could electrocute him, drown him, smother him, choke him - it doesn't matter. It would be so easy. I could do it. I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm not the defenseless, little, naive, stupid girl that Aizen used. No, I'm better than that. I could show him and everyone else - that you don't cross me. No one will ever cross me again. Everyone would know it, breathe it, live it - I will not lie down and let people trample all over me. No, I will let them see who they are dealing with. They won't cross me ever again._

With a fierce swing, Wabisuke descended with a whistle as Momo forced the blade down with overwhelming might. It split cloth and stuffing and metal as she embedding the blade deep into the mattress of hospital bed; only centimeters away from Izuru's propped-up head. "A quick death would be too good for you," she grunted. "Go rot in your own gloom until you die. _Then burn in hell with Aizen!"_ she shouted, completely losing her composure as tears and screaming agony ricocheted the walls in a loud, echoing wail that shook the entire infirmary floor.

Kira's mind was paralyzed in awful, horrible, soul-staining filth. Her punishment was fitting. It might be centuries before he would ever have the right, but Kira Izuru knew that he had no choice to suffer the indignity and shame before he could take his own life. Seppuku was only for those who could be redeemed. _I am unforgivable._

His punishment began, and Kira's soul shattered into painful, aching, spreading heaves of sorrow as the only love in his life slammed the door behind her; never to love him or anyone else ever again.

* * *

_Bet you didn't see **that** coming. Sorry this chapter took a while, work has been busy. _

_**Next chapter:** Komamura Kitsune, and more storm before the calm. The shinigami prepare for the invasion of NATA compound - but secrets are abound and no one is sure who to trust anymore! Don't miss it!_


	16. Mocher's Scale of Destruction

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. stormcrowley's and Fading into the background's fanfic references are used with permission.

_**Translator's note:** The literal translation of the familial root 'oba' means 'aunt', e.g. obasan. However, in colloquial parlance, it can be used as an honorific for an older, friendly female acquaintance. For example, Shihoin Zarina might refer to 'Kuukaku-obasama', since Kuukaku and Yoruichi are friends._

* * *

_"I'd rather suffer the soutaicho's bankai than have to cross swords with the 4th division captain."_

_~Commonly overheard quote in the 11th division;  
which will interestingly enough resurface back into widespread usage about two hundred years from now_

* * *

_Roughly six hundred years ago_

Kami, it's so loud in here. All these people barking and yelling, it's hurting my ears. There's so much noise; I can't focus. Can't someone explain to me why they're all arguing? And why am _I_ here?

And these lights are too bright. It's hurting my eyes. I can feel the hot glow of the lamps on my skin and it's really uncomfortable. The spotlights are so far away, and with all the noise, the room feels like it's spinning.

Too many people. They're all around. I feel cramped. My body seizes up and I feel paralyzed. Can't everybody stop yelling? And what's with these lights? Can't we turn them down?

There's too many people; the noise and barking and yelling and shouting is giving me this crippling headache. The only thing I can hear is them constantly shouting my name, but I can't make out any of the other words. In my head it just sounds like a random string of jumbled sounds, like someone crammed Japanese, Sanskrit, and Latin all into one language.

My retinas are burning with this light already! Please, can't someone shut it off?

I don't feel safe anymore in here. It's loud; so loud - too many people - so much chaos.

Taicho, can't we just get out of here?

Taicho?

Oh, you're busy. Sorry. I don't want to interrupt you. I know this is important. I wish someone would tell me why, though. I suppose if YOU WEREN'T ALL OVERLOADING MY BRAIN WITH ALL YOUR DARN SHOUTING I would be able to understand what's going on.

I can feel the temperature in the room rise steadily and it's making the hairs on my arms crawl around. Combined with the noise and the dizzying lights, I feel sick and my body begins to go into a panic attack. _Too... much... noise..._

_"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" _I scream, utterly agitated, and the room falls silent for a moment. Blessed silence. My eyes are still burning from all the lights and the candles and the wychglows, but at least the dreadful noise has stopped - oh, no, they've started again!

Now they're even louder than before! Shouting and screaming and yelling and cussing and swearing and BEING WAY TOO _LOUD._ My head feels like it's going to explode from overstimulation. The migraine that's forming in my head is beginning to pound and throb against my skull like a hammer.

I turn to look up at my captain. Taicho, _please_...?

I receive nothing but a small, polite smile that belies the disappointment and tension underneath. I understand that Taicho isn't happy with the situation, but I know I'm not the object of ire for the moment.

_Please,_ Taicho, _just get me out of here._ I don't like this place. Too many people; too much noise; too bright. I wrap my hand around my zanpakutou and try to hold on to my sanity.

-:-

_Back to the present_

Komamura Saijin was thankful that his wife, Unohana Retsu, was remarkably unflappable. Completely cheerful and capable of addressing any situation with a positive attitude, no matter how trying. Completely and comprehensively unperturbed.

He was especially thankful, because when she walked in to their small home on the edge of the division 1 campus, Saijin - who was known for his calm and collected demeanor - was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Their son, Kitsune, had a knack for destroying things.

_Lots_ of things. Especially _expensive_ things.

This included breaking their heirloom sword rack (Kitsune thought it made for a great jungle gym) and shredding the tapestry, an inheritance from Retsu's mother, with his teeth (which were absurdly sharp, given the canine influence on his otherwise human genes). Afterwards, he had gone into the diaper pail to empty the buggers so he could use them as paint on the wall - er, wall**_s_**. That, and a host of other horrifyingly disgusting activities involving a jar of mayonaise, three tubes of toothpaste, a hornet's nest, and a live jellyfish (however the hell he managed to find one of _those_), had left Kitsune's father wondering if he was singularly terrible as a parent.

So when Kitsune stopped sticking all of the chopsticks into the couch cushion when his mother came in the door, Saijin breathed a deep sigh of relief and prayed that his wife would forgive his complete and total incompetence.

"Mama!" the little hairy boy yelled, lunging at her knees and toppling her over to the floor. Unohana played along, rolling on the floor with him and tickling and scuffling and mock wrestling with him. He was half-fox, she was free to admit; this sort of thing was to be expected. Part of the deal of having children was to understand that each needed to learn in their very own special way.

After tousling his mangy, tangled mess of hair, she got back up to her feet and caressed her husband's snout before giving him an affectionate kiss on his little black wet nose. "Quite a day you must have had, dear."

Saijin, who only knew how to be ferocious on the battlefield, shook his head on the verge of tears. "I am terribly sorry."

"Did you yell at him, growl at him, hit him?"

"No," he answered truthfully.

"Were you patient with him, try to explain to him what he did wrong, and why he couldn't do it again?"

"Yes," he said, lacking even the slightest shred of confidence in himself.

"Then that is why you are the paragon of a good father," she replied with a smile. "And why you should now reward yourself with a pleasant walk outside to breathe some fresh air and enjoy the peace and quiet."

"I can't," Saijin protested, waving his hands about. "There is too much of a mess here, you need-"

"-my charming husband to recenter himself, so that he can be effective," she insisted sweetly. "Now please, out you go; you need to meditate or do whatever it is you men do when you need some time to yourselves."

"You are, of course, an angel and a saint," he replied with a smile, knowing he was not going to convince his wife otherwise.

"I am merely trying to be as good a wife as you are a father."

"You flatter me with false praises."

"Oh, don't be silly," Unohana said, flickering for a moment to catch a Monglian 13th century vase that Kitsune knocked over, and then flash back into place beside her husband. "Go, you will feel better after a fresh breeze." And with that, she literally pushed him towards the door.

"Alright, milady, I'm going, I'm going," he chuckled.

Silly old fox, she thought to herself. He really does try as hard as he can. He will have an easier time with it when our son is older, she thought. Oh well, time to clean this place up. Retsu took a deep breath and took extra special care to make sure her reiatsu was locked firmly in place. _"Kitsune,"_ she said, using that firm tone of voice at the precise pitch attuned to his ears.

The tazmanian-devil-whirlwind of a child froze in place, with something that looked vaguely like a frog's leg hanging out of his maw. When Mama uses that tone of voice, _you stop._ In Unohana Retsu's house, you learned this from the time you could _breathe._ Quickly spitting out the contents of his mouth, he turned to face her. "_Yes,_ Okaasama," he said in proper response.

"You are going to clean up these walls, correct?"

"_Yes,_ Okaasama," he answered primly.

"And clean up these chopsticks?"

"_Yes,_ Okaasama," he repeated.

"And help clean up the remains of the tapestry and sew it back together like it was new?"

"_Yes,_ Okaasama."

"And when are you going to do that?"

"Right now, Okaasama," he said equally as begrudgingly as his father could.

"And what happens if you don't?"

"Time out, Okaasama."

"That's correct. Please give me a kiss and then begin."

"_Yes,_ Okaasama," he said, dutifully kissing his mother on the cheek very respectfully, and then headed over to the bathroom to wet some washcloths. Unohana followed him to supervise and make sure that he cleaned up every last bit of mess. For all the chaos he could create, Kitsune had made enough of it that he had learned how to become efficient at cleaning it up.

After about ten minutes, the doorbell rang; which surprised Retsu. First, she honestly wasn't expecting anyone. Second, Saijin would just come in; although she was fairly sure he would take his time. This had clearly been one of the more challenging trials of his patience.

"Kitsune-chan, please get the door as politely as you can."

"Yes, Okaasama," he answered enthusiastically, happy to be temporarily spared from scrubbing the frog blood and diaper contents off the walls.

"_Oyasime,_ Kitsune-chan," came a familiar cheery voice from outside the door. "Staying out of trouble?"

"No, Rukia-obasama," he answered politely. "Otousama was very disappointed in me," he continued as he opened up the door to let Rukia in.

"That's too bad," Rukia said sweetly as she came through, giving a knowing smile to Unohana. Kitsune easily ranked up there with tanks, tornadoes, and typhoons on the Mocher Scale of Destruction, but he was the most honest boy she had ever met. It was admittedly very cute. "You'll try better next time, I'm sure?"

"Yes, I will," he said reluctantly.

"I'm sure that if Rukia-obasama hears you have been on good behavior, I'm sure next time she'll bring you a treat," Unohana suggested.

"Yes," Rukia agreed, knowing that Kitsune was easy to bribe.

Kitsune was only a few months older than Shihoin Zarina, but he had been aging rather rapidly for a boy in Soul Society years. He was already comparative to a four year old terror. His negotiation skills were just developing, and Rukia found it amusing to see him consider the offer. "Fish?"

"Carp," Rukia lowballed.

"Swordfish," he countered.

"Mooglefish," Rukia said, offering a mock expression of negotiation.

"River bass," he suggested.

"You drive a hard bargain," she teased. "But I think you're supposed to behave whether you get a treat or not."

Kitsune frowned.

"Go apologize to your mother for getting into trouble, and next time, if you're good, I'll bring you some yellowtail," Rukia suggested.

"Okay!" he agreed. It wasn't swordfish, but yellowtail was good stuff. The foxy little boy, who aside from his mildly pointy ears and otherwise excessively hairy skin, looked like your ordinary little boy's boy. Nonetheless, he sweetly kissed his mother on the cheek and gave her a hug. "I'm sorry, Okaasama. I won't make Otousama upset again."

"Good boy," she said, kissing him back on the forehead. "Do you have something to say to Rukia-obasama?"

"Thank you for offering to bring me fish," he said nicely. "I'll try to be good, Rukia-obasama."

Unohana patted him on the shoulder. "Excellent, that was very polite. Now go play nicely outside while I talk to Rukia-obasama."

"Mama," he said, thankful he didn't have to call her the formal name anymore, "can I play in the dirt?"

"Yes."

"Can I eat the worms?"

"The worms are good for the garden, dear. So are the mantisses, ladybugs, bees, and butterflies."

"Okay, Mama. What about the grubs?"

"Only if you must," she sighed.

"Thanks, Mama!" he cheered, charging out the door.

Rukia chuckled to herself as the boy hopped-sort-of-lunged outside, letting the door slam behind him with a loud crack. (Unohana didn't even flinch.) "Really? You let him eat grubs?"

Unohana waved her hand to dismiss the concern. "I have to respect that he is not your typical boy," she replied. "I can't pretend that he's always going to conform. I might as well not constrain him where there's no harm. Besides, the boy's protein needs are always challenging to fulfill."

"If I might get away with a moment of impugnity," Rukia laughed, "it makes me wonder when Komamura-sensei became a vegan."

Unohana chuckled. "My grocery lists are certainly rather astonishing to cover their diametrically opposite eating habits, I can promise you. I can't even begin to tell you what it's like keeping two sets of dishes."

Rukia laughed.

"May I offer you some tea?"

"No thank you, Unohana-sensei; some other time. I only have a short time before our mission later this evening, and I really need to get some answers to some questions."

Unohana pleasantly closed her eyes, her ever-present smile beaming. "Of course. What can I help you with?"

"I need some information on one of your former officers. A woman by the name of Naga Toyuki. I believe she was your 20th seat several centuries ago."

Unohana thought for a moment, but then her eyes widened. "Oh - you must be thinking of Toki-chan."

Rukia pursed her lips. "Who?"

"Shihoin Tokine," Unohana sighed. "I didn't recall her name at first because she wasn't a Naga for very long; and no one but her family called her by her first personal name."

"What do you mean? Is she dead?"

"I can only assume so, Kuchiki-san." Unohana's normally unflappable face was visibly sad - an extraordinary gesture on her part.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry to say that she was exiled."

"Exiled? For what?"

"For nothing," Unohana said bitterly, and it was the first time Rukia had ever heard the graceful woman ever speak with an edge of anger. "It is a very sad story; one of the worst nadirs in the history of Central 46's long line of mistakes."

"What happened?"

"Nothing good," Unohana answered with a sigh. "In his eldest years, Toki-chan's father made a deal to marry her off to Naga Kaseira. Kaseira-san was a wonderful, kind-hearted and sensitive man who, at the time, was one of the few members of nobility who was actually noble in character. It was an arrangement made in Toki-chan's best interests. Shihoin-dono was not going to be able to care for Toki-chan forever, so he wanted her in a place where she would be treated well; in addition to being properly cared for. The Naga family had their own problem: Kaseira-san had a male lover of many years, and a marriage would serve to superficially restore the family's commitment to the 'propriety of nobility', as is said. As if love could not be found between two individuals of the same gender," she noted, rolling her eyes.

It was a very rare moment that Unohana Retsu seemed to display any sort of distaste in anything, and Rukia detected a very strong undercurrent of resentment in her voice. It was almost as though Unohana herself had suffered through a similar indignity. It made Rukia wonder if Unohana-sensei ever received flack for falling in love with Komamura-sensei.

"In any case, both fathers knew that Toki-chan and Kaseira-san would never consummate their marriage anyway. Kaseira-san would continue his personal affairs, and Toki-chan most likely wouldn't notice or even care."

"...What do you mean?"

Unohana brushed a loose strand of her silky black hair behind her ear. "...It's not important. In any case, shortly after Shihoin Pomadora-dono passed away, Kaseira-san and his lover were brutally murdered, along with Kaseira-san's father. Naga Yurina, who was widely known to be unhappy with her son's _'condition'_ and further displeased by her husband's acceptance of it, accused Toki-chan of the crime. She claimed that upon finding Kaseira-san with his lover, she flew into a jealous rage; and then killed the father for forcing her to marry his 'depraved and perverted' son."

"...That's not _such_ a difficult thing to imagine," Rukia said carefully, sensing that she was treading on a sensitive topic. "Did she have an alibi?"

Her zanjutsu sensei's face fell in sadness. "No, she did not. In fact, Toki-chan was home at the time; and there was nothing that overtly contradicted Lady Yurina's claim. But to believe that Shihoin Tokine was capable of such a heinous crime would be absurd. She was my 20th seat at the time, and I can assure you: when I say she couldn't hurt a fly, I mean that in the most literal way possible."

"So then what actually happened?"

"Well, no one can say for certain, but I suspect that Naga Yurina was the one truly responsible. With a few well placed bribes in the pockets of some influential members of Central 46, it would have been easy to make sure that Naga Yurina never had to care for her daughter-in-law. I certainly knew that Lady Yurina was bitterly unhappy that Toki-chan was only exiled."

Rukia breathed in deeply, trying to figure out whether any of this information was helpful. Unfortunately, it didn't shed much light on anything. "Unohana-sensei, we are worried that Naga Toyuki's zanpakutou might be in the hands of the NATA. It is one of four powerful zanpakutou that were never accounted for according to Soul Society records; we fear that NATA may be able to use them against us. Do you know if Naga-san is alive, and if she still has her zanpakutou with her?"

"There is nearly no hope that she is alive, Rukia-san. It is beyond impossible to imagine."

"Why?"

"Because Toki-chan was exiled to Hueco Mundo."

Rukia gasped. "Central 46 would do that?"

"Not anymore," Unohana said, a wave of thankfulness crashing over her gentle features. "But Central 46 has never been known for being the pinnacle of moral rectitude."

Rukia sighed. "Thank you for the information, Unohana-sensei."

"You're welcome," she replied graciously. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Hesitation filled the air as Rukia looked askance. "...Actually, there is something I wanted to ask you. About... about Nanao-san."

"Oh?" Retsu aked politely, knowing that whatever question was coming next was likely to be a _doozy._ Unohana Retsu was the sensei of two sisters - in spirit if not in blood, anyway - and while Ise Nanao had since graduated from her kido tutelage, Nanao still viewed Unohana as her mentor and rolemodel. Rukia, though, rarely came to Retsu with questions - usually, Rukia was content to get her advice from Nanao or her brother Byakuya. For Rukia to come to Retsu about her closest friend was a clear indication that something was amiss.

"...Were you ever, uh, bothered by, uh..." Rukia stuttered before shaking her head. "...never mind, Sensei. I'm sorry to disturb your evening."

"Wait," Retsu said, and Rukia did not doubt for one second that it was an order to be followed. "Speak your mind, Kuchiki-san."

"...It's nothing."

Unohana raised an eyebrow. "Don't force me to serve you tea," she chided.

Rukia smiled. Unohana-sensei had an unsual force of persuasion that would make you laugh if it wasn't so effective. Rukia paused to collect her thoughts for a moment before eliciting her question. "I know that Nanao-san is privy to all kinds of military secrets, but as head lieutenant, I have clearance for everything short of a captain's personal seal. Is it just me, or is Nanao some kind of state secret?"

Retsu's lips turned up at the corners in a polite smile. "I wonder that myself, sometimes, Kuchiki-san. Supposedly, the number of people who know anything about her true shinigami nature can be counted on one hand."

"Why is that?" Rukia asked. "Why is she so secretive?"

Unohana shrugged. "I don't know. She never told me, either. All I know is that her zanpakutou is highly unusual."

-:-

_Nanao was leaving detailed instructions for Hisagi. It was the first time he had to babysit. "Alright, honey, I left Saya in the sangria pitcher. Don't take her out until she's good and drunk, and then give her a bath in hot water. If Kazeshini says she's good, you can polish her with an oilcloth before bed."_

_-:-_

"Why, Kuchiki-san?" Unohana pressed. "Does it bother you?"

"...Maybe a little," Rukia confessed. "I mean, sometimes I think I know Nanao-san better than I know Ichigo. And then other times, I feel like a total stranger."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Rukia-san. I'm sure she doesn't even tell Hisagi-san her secrets."

-:-

_"Nan-chan, I swear, one of these days you are going to explain to me why your zanpakutou likes red meat, wine, and fruit salad." With a gluttonous zanpakutou like that, it's amazing Nan-chan has such a slender figure, he wondered._

_Nanao grinned. "Not one moment before," she teased._

_"Yeah, yeah," Shuuhei grumbled. "After I learn bankai, I know, I know."_

_-:-_

"May I make a suggestion, Kuchiki-san?"

"Of course, Unohana-sensei."

"Talk about it with Ise-san. You're about to go on an important mission with her, and you'll be better off if you get things off your chest first."

"...I suppose," Rukia admitted.

"Can I ask what prompted this concern of yours? It seems rather sudden, if you ask me."

Rukia thought of Miyako's file, filled with Nanao's redactions. It was one thing for Nanao to keep her own secrets, but Miyako-dono's secrets should have been for Rukia's ears, too. She knew that it was selfish and petulant of her, but she didn't care. Kaien-dono's and Miyako-dono's memories were such an important part of Rukia's history that it was maddening to think that Nanao was holding out on her - anything Nanao knew, Rukia should be able to know. The whole notion that Nanao would withhold information of this nature from Rukia ignited a spark of anger in her, and Rukia's facade hardened like steel. "I'd rather not divulge, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Unohana nodded; not surprised that Rukia didn't want to bring it up with her. They didn't have that kind of relationship, anyway.

"Please excuse me, Unohana-sensei; I must be going," she said politely - but Rukia failed to keep her casual demeanor as the stern mask of distant Kuchiki indifference fell upon her. She realized it after it was too late, and tried to forcibly soften herself despite her misplaced irritation. "Thank you for the opportunity to speak with you at such an inconvenient time."

"No, not at all," Unohana said. "It's never an inconveni-"

At that moment, Kitsune crashed through a window, spraying glass and wood and paper everywhere as he darted this way and that, trying to avoid a horde of very angry bats. The procession of sheer chaos ran up and down the hallway and the house was filled with the sounds of _thousands_ of clicking mammals, and one howling little boy who had gotten into just a bit more trouble than he could handle.

"-eh, perhaps I must be going," Retsu smiled awkwardly.

Rukia gave a meek smile in return. "I'll just... let myself out."

"Thank you so very much," Unohana said politely over her shoulder with a smile as she began to run down the hallway after her son.

Rukia chuckled in complete disbelief. Kitsune was a handful, that was for sure - but at least he had a mother like Unohana Retsu.

-:-

11th division 6th seat Hoshiki Kutarama sneered as the 4th division lieutenant entered the 11th division practice dojo. It was fight night, and she had no business intruding on their monthly free-for-all. Two hundred members of the active unit were ready and waiting to get started.

"Whatcha doin' here?" he snarled. "We don't got time for playing with 4th division sissies tonight."

Ten years ago, Hoshiki Kutarama would have basically been eye-level with Kotetsu Isane. He himself was 6'1", just as Isane had been a decade ago. But there was something in the Kotetsu genes that insured they didn't stay a particular height for too long. In Hoshiki's case, if he had more than ten functioning brain cells, he would have realized that any woman who was 7'3" was someone who should be taken seriously.

Isane decked him across the cheek so hard it literally shattered his molars. Grabbing him by the collar, the colossal lieutenant shook him like he was enduring his own personal earthquake, and then unceremoniously tossed him like a rotten potato near the center of the dojo floor; where he landed with an equally unceremonious thump. Unsheathing her zanpakutou, Isane gave a harsh, stone-cold look around the room full of testerone-infused, adrenaline-burning, sword-crazy maniacs.

_Just so we're clear, you're insane. You're going to be more humiliated than that time Kurosaki disarmed you on Soukyouku Hill without even so much as using his sword._

Now you listen to me, Itegumo: Kurosaki didn't give Hanataro a black eye before our wedding. You're going to beat some ass, _you hear me?_ Or you're going to get it from me, _DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M SAYING?_

_Yes, ma'am!_ her sword replied, realizing he better follow through or he was in deep shit. _Caged tiger mode, you got it._

"Hey you sniveling, sorry excuses for rotting drunks with swords!" she screamed. _"Come and get your asses plowed, you piddly little toy soldiers!"_

-:-

_About two hours later_

Itegumo's hilt savagely crushed the bridge of her attacker's nose, and the roundhouse kick that Isane issued was so powerful that the 11th division barbarian spun around in midair as he collapsed onto a heap of his barbarian comrades.

Isane was panting heavily, her rage not yet subsided. "Where are the rest of you hoodlums hiding? Come out and fight!"

_Um, Neechan, I think you got them all._

No, I know there's more! There better be more, I'm not done yet!

_Neechan, take a deep breath..._

Isane inhaled deeply as she surveyed the hall. Piles of 11th division members were everywhere, and the only sounds were moans and groans of agony. They were lucky that Isane was nice enough to seal their wounds so that they wouldn't bleed to death, although she had no intention of applying any sort of anesthetic.

Her uniform was in complete tatters. She had taken hundreds of severe blows to her ribs, ankles, knees, thighs, shoulders, head, face, back, chest, and arms - but she was one of the best medical officers in the Gotei 13. The one thing she could do that the 11th couldn't was heal wounds, fix broken bones, repair organs, halt internal bleeding, and eliminate pain - all fast and on the fly. She was a vice captain for a reason, after all. Healing typical sword wounds was something she could do in her sleep.

With a gargantuan seven-foot wingspan, it also meant that when Kotetsu Isane swung a sword at you, even if you blocked it, the blow could shatter the bones in your wrist. In fact, the rampaging giant had even shattered a few zanpakutou with her overpowering leverage. That, and the 11th didn't get much practice trying to break through kido barriers or defending themselves against lieutenant-level hado spells. Not that kido was allowed in the 11th, but Kotetsu Isane didn't exactly care about 11th division rules very much. The large holes in the walls where her potent _Shots of Red Fire_ made their exit were a testament to how much the 11th underestimated kido.

Simply put, it had been a slaughter.

"Let that be a lesson to you puny puke-packing, pile-of-pus, pigheaded punks! You touch my Hanataro again, and the next time you come into the 4th, I'll personally give you a colonoscopy with your own cranium!"

With that, Isane resheathed her zanpakutou. That oughtta show them, she thought.

_There's no way you could get away with something like this if Zaraki or Madarame were around, you know._

Isane grimaced at him. If the Kenpachi ever touched Hanataro, I'd take him head-on!

_You're still insane,_ Itegumo laughed.

But I'm the only one standing, she reasoned, ignoring him.

_That's true,_ Itegumo admitted. _It's been a while since we've had a good fight, hasn't it?_

Isane shrugged. Just because I don't suck at it doesn't mean I like it.

_Oh, admit it. You had fun._

Her lips turned up in a twisted smile not typically associated with the gentle Vice Captain Kotetsu Isane. Okay, maybe a bit.

-:-

Nanao pecked him on the cheek. "Shuuhei, I'm hoping I'll be back by tomorrow morning. You'll keep in touch with your contacts?"

"Yep," he answered. "Ma put me in contact with a Yakuza guy named Kimari. Kimari has a contact in Red Crow, a guy named Koizumi. Supposedly Koizumi knows some power brokers. I heard names like Melisande, Hodo, and Higurashi get tossed around."

"You think you can get a connection to _Melisande Oquo_?" Nanao asked. "Wait a minute - _Higurashi_? As in, the sake distillers?"

"Yeah," Hisagi nodded. "That's what Koizumi said. Says he knows Melisande's chef, a nice lady named Gedren Amaya who can actually kick Melisande's ass in a fight. Koizumi also seems to have some business dealings with this guy Shin, who's some sort of relative with Higurashi Mamoru."

"That's some serious name-dropping," Nanao commented. "Are you sure this guy Koizumi is legit? Even so, can Kimari get you the connection?"

"Ma says she got the pass-the-handshake as a favor from Hoochie Coochie. When Hoochie gives you info, you know it's legit."

Nanao laughed. "I swear, Coochie-san knows _everything._ I bet you that old pimpette even knows the parents of every captain by face, name, and birthday."

Hisagi laughed - Nanao was obviously cracking a joke about her own father. "Don't worry, Nan-chan. I know this is important, believe me. The sooner we can pull off this con game, the better."

She swallowed hard, temporarily getting emotional. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but this mission really gets in the way of everything. I really should have just agreed to send Hinamori-san."

Shuuhei dismissed the idea. "Everything will be fine. Don't worry. But I am worried about something else before you go."

Nanao was puzzled. "What?"

"You should really talk to Yadomaru-san before you head out."

The suggestion rubbed Nanao the wrong way. "Why? What do I need to talk to _her_ for?"

Hisagi sighed. "I know you're mad at her, but both of you are just being stubborn."

Nanao was about to retort in anger, but she cared about Shuuhei enough to hold her temper, breathe for a minute as she counted ten, and then finally realize that he was probably right. "She's _not_ my mother," Nanao said, her voice legitimately sad and disappointed. "...It's too late for that."

Shuuhei nodded. "I know. The point is, though, that you should talk to her anyway."

She sighed. "If I promise to talk to her once we pull this off, will you get off my back about it?"

"Deal," he agreed.

At that moment, a knock on the door sounded.

"One minute," Nanao called. "Would you mind getting the door, Shuu? Thanks," she said, pecking him on the cheek again.

Nanao's attention was seized when Rukia slammed the door open, shoving past Hisagi. "Nanao-san, I need to talk to you. _Now._"

_Shit,_ Nanao thought. I really hope this isn't what I think it is. Rukia looks really, really pissed. "Rukia-san...? What's wrong?" Nanao feigned ignorance. "Is everything okay?"

Rukia looked at Hisagi. "Sorry, but we can't talk here."

Nanao did the best she could to plaster a puzzled look on her face. "Okay - Soukyouku Hill?"

"Yes. Follow me," and Rukia flickered out of sight.

"Hey! Wait! I'm not that fast!" Nanao shouted, chasing after Rukia on her clumsy-by-comparison shunpo steps.

Hisagi shook his head. There were three possibilities of what would happen when he woke up. Possibility one - the least likely - was that he was going to wake up alive. Possibility two and three were that he would wake up dead, with the only difference as to which one of the two Raven-Haired Sisters killed him.

-:-

The wind blew at their backs as both of the black-haired women felt comforted by the relative quiet of Soukyouku Hill. For Rukia, this was a place of triumph; for Nanao, this was a place of study and introspection. Nanao had come here often to get away from her pesky captain when she was still vice captain of the 8th, and had spent many a day cursing at her zanpakutou while trying to play umpteen games of chess in order to learn bankai. Which, in the end, had been unnecessary; but still, it was a place of solemn meditation.

"Rukia-san, what's going on?"

Rukia stared her in the eyes. It was a completely uninterpretable expression for Nanao, which was unusual. "You're holding out on me, and I don't know why."

_Oh, fuckadoodle,_ Nanao thought. _Ksa. Ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag. Play dumb._ "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Nanao-san," Rukia began before looking away, "save my husband, you're my closest friend. You were my Crowngifter. I swear, you're my sister in all facets but blood. But you keep secrets from me."

Nanao swallowed a painful lump in her throat. Rukia was going to rip her heart out, stomp on it, put it through a meat grinder, and then shove it back in her chest as a messy lump of cardiac pulp. "...I do. I always have. But I keep secrets from everybody, Rukia-san. You've... you've never seemed to care before."

Rukia fidgeted for a moment, and slowly reached up to take off her scarf. Holding it in her hands, she thought for a moment and then removed the iconic bone pin in her hair, a gift from Nii-sama that was made from the mask of the slain 9th Espada. She tucked both into a pocket in her custom dress-like shihakusho, and looked at the woman across from her.

This very obvious gesture made Nanao freeze. This was going to be a real heart-to-heart that Nanao feared was going to kill her, her boyfriend, and every chance she ever had at setting things right.

"Nanao-neesama, what happened to Shiba Miyako's katana? And why do you have her personnel file under such tight security clearance?"

Nanao's eyes widened.

"Nanao-neesama," Rukia pleaded. "What are you hiding from me?"

* * *

_Extra points if you caught the subtle references to Ch40 of Saved For You, Kuchiki. **Reviews, please!** Next chapter: Matsumoto!_


	17. The Waxing of the Wet Moon

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_"I... yes, Hinamori Fukutaicho was a bridesmaid at my wedding. But... but the Momo-san that I knew has long since disappeared.__"_

_~3rd division captain, Kuchiki Rukia, answering her vice captain, Shiba Kanchi;  
approximately two centuries from now _

* * *

Nanao was caught completely offguard. "Wh- huh? Rukia-san, what are you talking about?"

This got Rukia visibly angry. "Nanao-san, don't play dumb with me. What do you know about Shiba Miyako that has everything about her covered in red tape?"

"But Ruk-"

"I don't want to hear excuses, Nanao-san. I want to know why you know something about Miyako-dono that you aren't telling me."

Nanao was completely unprepared for this converation. When Rukia had stormed into her apartment, Nanao had prepared a thousand things to say, but not a single one of those pre-rehearsed conversations ever predicted it was going to go like this. "Uh, well, it's not like it ever came up in conversation," she sputtered lamely. Which was true, despite the fact that Nanao predicted the very next retort out of Rukia's mouth, nearly word for word.

"God_damn_it, Nanao," Rukia shouted at her with steeled eyes and a snarl. "I shouldn't have to ask you about something like this! Why didn't you tell me! ?"

Nanao looked away, trying to give off a vaguely guilty aura despite not feeling a hint of it. Nanao kept a lot of secrets and never felt one drop of remorse about it. Actually, Nanao didn't really feel much remorse over anything. That being said, it would appease her best friend to act a bit shameful. "I'm sorry," she said, hoping it sounded true enough.

"_Sorry?_" Rukia shouted, furiously hurling a massive hado #33 into the stone floor twenty yards away out of sheer anger. It would have been considered an impressive explosion had she been in different company. "That's all you have to say! ? Nanao-san, _what is it that you're not telling me?_"

"Nothing you want to know," Nanao admitted.

"Nothing I want to know! ?" Rukia's hand flew to her hilt, and tears began to stream down her face. "Nothing I want to know! ? How dare you, Nanao-san! How could you say that? How could you say that to me? To me!"

Well, I can't exactly tell you that the last time Miyako saw you, she was stealing your body so that she could kiss your brand-new husband. I really can't say that, now can I? "...Rukia-san, please - calm down."

Grabbing her hair in frustration like she wanted to yank it out of her head, Rukia did everything she could to keep from screaming. For years, Rukia's self was defined by the night that her esteemed role model was found dead. Shiba Miyako was a woman that Rukia strove her entire life to live up to. To think that Nanao, her Nanao-neesama, was holding out on Rukia infuriated her to no end.

_Get a hold of yourself,_ Sode no Shirayuki cautioned. _You're beyond this._

Rukia ground her teeth as the nagging pain gnawed at her. "Tell me, Nanao-san!" Don't make me force it out of you, Rukia thought.

_Nii-sama would remind you that was always his failing,_ Sode no Shirayuki warned her.

What do you know? Rukia shot back, and her sword was silenced.

Seeing Rukia suppress her hysterics actually made Nanao feel a tinge guilty. Nanao knew this wasn't easy to begin with, and Rukia was hyperemotional at the moment. Nanao knew from Rukia's schedules that this was not exactly a happy time of the month for her, and so Rukia's patience was already spread thin. She had to give up _something._ Throw her a carrot, see how she reacts. Besides, it will stall for time. "Well, I guess there are some things I can tell you. I don't know if you know this, but I suppose Miyako-dono is my cousin."

This caught Rukia's attention, particularly because it was such an unusually random comment coming from a very non-random person. "What?"

"Well, her mother was Papa's sister," Nanao explained. "So I guess that makes me her cousin."

Rukia gave a sardonic frown. "Being related to Kyouraku Taicho is hardly grounds for sealing her personnel file."

"No, of course not," Nanao smiled, trying to figure out a productive way to get out of this conversation. She wasn't finding one. "Rukia-san, I'm sorry, okay? Can't you just let this go?"

Rukia's entire body lit up in a blinding white glow until the force of light was so strong that the light itself fractured into a stream of prismatic beams. Rukia's seething scowl was accompanied by her fiercest Kuchiki Doom Stare, and it actually made Nanao shudder a bit. The power output was so intense that Nanao feared she would have to release her Handoshi powers just to keep Rukia's spiritual pressure from cracking her glasses.

Wow, and I thought _I_ could be creepy, Nanao thought.

She sighed again and put her hand to her forehead, trying to think hard. Telling the truth might be the only way out of this one with her conscience still intact. "Rukia-san, I can't tell you all the details. I can't. It's just not something I can do. But if I promise to tell you the essentials, will you let it be and promise to take it to the grave?"

Rukia's tidal flood of spiritual pressure collapsed in on itself as she weighed her options. For Nanao to spill anything was a big concession. "...Can I tell Ichigo?"

"No."

"I can't tell Ichigo? But he's my _husband_! I can't keep secrets from him!"

_"No,"_ Nanao said, and then cut Rukia off before she could protest further. "I'm dead serious. I keep my secrets in good faith, Rukia-san, because information can change a person's life. In fact, of all people that shouldn't know the truth, you would be considered number one on that list."

"Nanao-san...?" Rukia asked, bewildered. The hurt and anguish on her face was immense as tears began to form in her eyes. Rukia's voice cracked and squeaked, unable to believe what her sister had said to her. "How could you say that to me?"

"Believe me, I'm trying to protect you here."

Rukia tears began to spill down her cheek as she fell to her knees, no longer capable of sustaining anger in her sadness. "How many people have succeeded in protecting me with silence?"

**_Ouch,_** Nanao winced. The comparison to Byakuya's darker days - and Urahara's guinea pigging of Rukia's soul with the Hougyoku - left Nanao feeling genuine remorse. That was not a class of sins Nanao wanted to carry with her.

Nanao cherished Rukia. Rukia had given Nanao a reason to believe in the goodness of people. Nanao would have never been able to carve out a family of her own if she didn't learn from Rukia and her experiences. Nanao couldn't bear the idea of divulging the truth - that somewhere deep inside, her most innate nature was to be a heartless, judgemental, bloodthirsty, sex-addicted sadist. Nanao tried hard every day of her life not to let her previous Handoshi service in Hell cloud her humanity, and while Nanao firmly believed that she had done no wrong, she also knew that most other people would not understand. Sinners are there to be tortured, but that doesn't mean people think highly of those doing the torture.

Nanao didn't want to to see Rukia's spirit broken, sad and shattered and in pain. It hurt - but that alone was not enough to make Nanao tell the truth. Nanao wouldn't confess her secrets just because someone stood in front of her and whined about it.

But this was different. It wasn't that Rukia was asking. It was that Nanao had committed the ultimate sin - she had condescended and patronized her closest friend, claiming that she knew better. Invoking superiority where it was not deserved. Acting as though Rukia was beneath her - as though Nanao had learned nothing from history. Nanao's sin was to repeat the mistakes of her elders. She had seen the burden of Byakuya's regret, and that was a burden Nanao knew she could not carry - even for someone who carried the burden of Hell itself.

Nanao fell to her own knees in front of her friend. "I'm sorry." Nanao said sincerely, her chest tightening. "That was horrible of me."

Rukia could do nothing but sniffle. Nanao reached her arms around her only sister, and apologized again. "I'm sorry, Rukia-chan. I... I will tell you. Not everything, because I really can't do that. But I will, if you really want to know."

"Yes," Rukia answered in a whisper. Miyako-dono... have you been my false dream all these years? Did I try to fill your shoes, only to find out now that perhaps you were a monster? What secrets do you have? Are they dark and dangerous? Inspiring? Treacherous? Uplifting? World-altering? How can I continue without knowing the truth?

Nanao hesitated. "Are you sure you really want to know?"

Rukia gave her an impatient look, her irritation finally overriding her emotional upheaval. "Hell yes, I wanna know! Tell me already!"

_Ironic,_ Nanao thought. "The truth is, Rukia-san, is that Miyako-dono is alive."

-:-

Kuukaku returned to her 5th division office to find her 3rd seat, Hitamake Hanzo, waiting for her. Hinamori's desk was empty. Kuukaku assumed that she had either stepped out for a smoke or to visit Kira Fukutaicho in the 4th. She was worried about Momo - she had started smoking rather abruptly, and was already puffing smog like a chimney. Kuukaku enjoyed a pipe every now and then, but Momo's rapid grip on the addictive habit had her a bit concerned.

"Shiba Taicho," Hitamake saluted.

"Oh, at ease already," she chided. "Hinamori-san stepped out for a smoke?"

Hitamake wasn't sure what his captain was saying. "No... you didn't hear about it in the captain's meeting?"

"Huh?" Kuukaku stopped for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

Hitamake handed her a notice that was affixed with the 1st division mission control's seal. "She was just sent out on a special mission."

Kuukaku surveyed the notice. Hmm, I guess the Ol' Geezer really did mean that he had an opportunity for her. "Oh, that," she fuddled, trying not to look ignorant. "I'm just surprised that they sent it out so soon, that's all. They talked about the possibility of sending her out, but I didn't realize it was already planned."

Hitamake shrugged. "Alright. Anyway, here are the reports you asked for..."

-:-

Matsumoto began to stir. Her eyelids were heavy, and she didn't open them at first. She was very weak and didn't feel like moving. When she tried, though, she found she couldn't.

Turning her head to look at her restraints, her vision was ridiculously blurry and oddly grayscale, but it cleared after a moment and Matsumoto could see she was chained to a table, with very little ability to move her head. She felt intensely atrophied and very, very weak; as though her body was fighting her from within. She was naked and chilly, but her skin unnaturally felt like she was being seared in warm acid. Her intuition and warrior's experience told her that she didn't seem to be in immediate danger, despite the shackles and odd superficial sensations. With a sludge-like torpor still hanging around her brain, Matsumoto closed her eyes and reached down into her soul, hoping to find Heineko - but she couldn't enter into her inner world and could not sense her zanpakutou at the moment. She was probably too weak.

Her eyelids opened once more, and it was then that Matsumoto looked up to the ceiling. It was mirrored, and Matsumoto could see her entire self as her eyes began to register color again.

Matsumoto Rangiku let out a bitter, heart-grinding wail of shock. No, she thought. No - no, no, no, no! Tears of anguish and terror burst forth from her eyes as a shriek of despair left her throat. She thrashed against the chains but to no avail. There was nothing left to feel but the agony of pure, dark, dreary, inescapable horror.

_No, no, no, no, no... No, god no, no... no, no no no no no no!_

-:-

Ichihime was stressed out. She knew she would never be able to save everyone, but seeing her comrades devoured by darkness was still a bit unnerving. She prayed for Yachiru-senpai, the little girl who was actually almost as old as Ichihime was. Ichihime even used to dye her hair the same color as Yachiru's naturally pink locks. Seeing her comatose was almost as bitter as the thought of her waking up and finding out that her father, Zaraki Taicho, was dead.

Dead.

Zaraki Taicho.

_Dead._

Inconceivable!

Ichihime trembled at the thought. Lately, she had been a mess of confused emotion. Her breakup with Renji had been awful. Painful. Pitiful, even. She didn't know whether to be angry that he let it go so easily, or thankful that he didn't drag it out.

What followed was the awkwardness of approaching the Nikayui family to consider her hand in marriage, only to be elated to find out that Nikayui Adame was the most genuine, sincere, and kind-hearted person she had ever met. After meeting him only once, Ichihime's heart was aflutter, something completely unlike anything she had ever experienced. To push the cliche, he was like a dream come true.

But her elation was short lived. The adrenaline flooded her system as she rushed to find a cemetery rather than a battlefield. She and her taicho ended it quickly, but it was worse than a buzzkill. The fall, combined with the ups and downs that had already had her a bit emotionally loopy and imbalanced, had thrown her into an agita that she just couldn't get rid of. She felt like her heart and mind were spinning out of control.

Ichihime got up from the small desk in her bedroom at the Banzo estate and donned a respectful kimono, one suitable for visiting the family grave. When Ichihime was upset, she would go there and pray; beseeching her parents and other ancestors to provide her with clarity of thought. Over the years, Ichihime had come to respect that while her father had been a certified asshole his entire life, in death he had given her a solemn counsel.

Whenever Ichihime stood in front of his grave, she remembered all of the rights and wrongs he did; the latter drastically outweighing the former. With the peace of quiet hindsight, the Banzo princess could analyze her own thoughts and actions. Was she following in her father's footsteps, or was she learning how to let go of her troubles and her suffering? Would she let stress and disappointment rattle her until she met his fate, or would she live on and learn to find harmony amidst the distractions? They were deep questions, and they had even deeper answers. While this posthumous counsel wasn't the only good that her father ever did for her, it was one of the reasons that Ichihime learned to no longer hate him. His life had been a blemish full of scorn, but his memories were a treasured lesson in humanity.

Walking quietly down the path, the Princess of the Banzo House felt less like a princess and more like a mouse among men. She passed the tombstone of her great-great-great grandfather, Banzo Hoshiri; the monument for her great grandmother, Banzo Hibaku; and her grandfather's late wife, Banzo Irabesaki.

But when she arrived at her parent's graves, her stomach lurched. The small headstone of Banzo-Kyoraku-Hikifune Suzuki had been trampled on, mud splattered across the memoriam. But that was the least of the problems. Next to it, there was a small hole in the ground.

The only shrine ever left to her father's memory, his lifeless zanpakutou Claymore, had been stolen.

**_"SHIT!"_**

-:-

Rukia was speechless. After what must have been two whole minutes of her eyes quivering in astonished shock, she finally spoke. "Miyako-dono... is- _alive_?"

"Yes," Nanao said, exhaling a breath she didn't even know she was holding. "She's alive." You would know all about it if she hadn't mindwiped you. Boy, was _that_ an awkward situation.

"How... how- how is that possible? The Espada - he killed her, before he was... how- how is this possible?"

"She's alive because of her zanpakutou." Not even close to the whole truth, but not exactly a lie, either. Clara was indeed the reason that Miyako was summoned to Handoshi servitude; so Nanao was getting away with a mere sin of omission.

Okay, maybe more like a _grand_ sin of omission. Still, it wasn't technically a _lie._

"But... where... where is she?"

"In another dimension," Nanao answered, careful not to supply more than that.

"How do you know this? What do you have to do with it?"

Nanao thought quickly. "Currently, only the Head of the Kido Corps has the means to access that dimension freely." Again, a sin of omission. That statement was true only because Nanao happened to be the current Head of the Kido Corps. A convenient fact for the current discussion.

Rukia's head spun in a thousand ways, gears grinding like clockwork as she tried to digest this new information. "What is she doing there?"

Nanao shook her head. "I _really_ can't tell you that. And I don't mean to be cruel, but that is something you _really_ don't want to know."

"Nanao-san..."

"Hey," Nanao laughed. "Don't 'Nanao-san' me. I get enough badgering from Papa." Nanao paused to flick an ant off of her hakama. "I'm serious, Rukia-san. You don't want to know, and even if you did, I wouldn't tell you."

Rukia gave her a sideways glare. "Is she doing something morally questionable?"

"No, of course not!"

"What _I_ would call morally questionable," Rukia clarified, knowing that Nanao's moral compass was substantially different than most.

"Rukia-san!" Nanao retorted, offended.

"You're faking it," Rukia called her bluff. "Tell me the truth."

Nanao sighed. She could bullshit Shuuhei, but there was a limit to how much she could get away with Rukia. Still, Nanao genuinely believed that she was telling the truth. Punishing the wicked isn't a pleasant job, but it's not morally questionable. "Honestly, no. She's not. Really, I promise."

"You're still hiding something from me, I know it," Rukia muttered. "I'm serious, Nanao. As far as the official records go, Miyako-dono's zanpakutou is missing, and supposedly it's some super-dangerous omega weapon. I don't think I could fight Miyako-dono if it came to that."

Actually... Nanao thought. "Well, I can promise you with absolute certainty that you don't have to worry about that possibility." Miyako knows better than to try and take you on in a fight, anyway. "Miyako-dono definitely has her zanpakutou with her, and she's alive. She's also somewhere _far_, far away; there is no worry, I promise."

A heavy silence hung in the air as Rukia tried to reevaluate everything she had ever known.

"That's all I can tell you," Nanao said, concern still in her voice.

Rukia wouldn't take no for an answer. "You mean there's _nothing_ more you could tell me?"

"No," Nanao sighed.

The emotionally turbulent Kuchiki princess hesitated. "Does she... does she know about Ichigo?"

Does she know that Ichigo is her reincarnated husband? Of course she does, Nanao thought before lying to Rukia's face. "...I don't know."

Rukia nodded solemnly as she began to understand the ramifications of Miyako-dono being alive. Ichigo certainly complicated things.

As usual, I guess, she thought humorously to herself. He really is always making trouble, isn't he? "Is she still working for the Gotei 13?" Rukia asked, thinking of the mission ahead.

"...Not directly," Nanao worded carefully. "She's definitely not an enemy, I can tell you that."

Rukia brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face as she digested the revelation, nodding in understanding.

Nanao was still concerned. She had done Rukia severe injustice, and wanted to make sure things were okay. "Are you still mad at me?"

"...No," Rukia said, shaking her head in a bit of a daze. "No, Nanao-san. I understand." Nanao arched a worried, skeptical eyebrow. Rukia smiled at the gesture. "Really, I do," she clarified, reaching over to give her best friend a hug.

Nanao breathed a sigh of relief. "I swear I thought you were going to kill me," Nanao teased.

"Oh, I will one of these days," Rukia fired back.

"Better you than Papa," she laughed.

"Tch, Kyoraku Taicho would never lift a finger against his kawaii Nanao-chan," Rukia flung back with a smile.

"If I stole his sake stockpile, maybe."

"I don't think so," Rukia replied.

It was then that the answer dawned on both of them at the same time. "His condoms," they said in unison without realizing it, and they both fell over laughing.

"Yeah, so maybe he would kill you if you stole those," Rukia laughed out loud.

"Kami," Nanao chuckled, trying to regain her composure. "I hope he isn't jerking Rantao-san around."

"Me too," Rukia thought. "She seems like she wouldn't be able to handle it."

Nanao was serious for a moment. "He does seem sincere about her, though. It's a bit surprising."

"Or terrifying," Rukia suggested. "It could be foreshadowing the apocalypse, you know."

"True," Nanao conceded. "Anything else on your mind before we have to go meet up with Soifon?" Nanao asked, switching topics deliberately. She didn't like to be open about her feelings - or Papa's antics - and was eager to get out from under Rukia's magnifying glass.

Rukia laughed. "That's you, alright. Always eager for a field mission," she teased.

"Damn straight," Nanao chuckled back. "If I have to put up with Fuwu-san for another minute, I think I'm going to give him involuntary liposuction."

"You have a knack for devising ways to hurt people, you know that?"

Do I ever, Nanao thought. "C'mon, Princess, get yourself all suited up in your fancy-shmancy regalia and let's get going. Soifon is probably throwing a hissy fit waiting for us."

Rukia rolled her eyes. "I didn't know that she and Kotsubaki-san were so serious," she said as she re-donned her pin and scarf. "Soifon Taicho seems surprisingly hotheaded lately."

"Yeah, well, even her dumb-as-a-brick lieutenant knows she's got issues. C'mon, let's go. I don't want to be late."

"Hah," Rukia snorted. "The only thing that's going to make us late is that lazy bunny-hop you call shunpo."

"Hey! Wait a minute! GET BACK HERE!" Nanao called, chasing after her. Goddamnit, she is fucking fast, Nanao thought. I sure as Heaven hope that I'm at least faster than Omaeda; otherwise his pissy little bitch captain is going to be ragging on me all night.

-:-

11th division 4th seat Kilik Korakora and 5th seat Uroshi Jurada returned early from their support mission in Luxemborg to find the most unusual sight in the 11th division dojo. Usually by this hour, people were starting to stir from the brawl as the last man standing lauded it over them. But tonight, the place looked deader than a cemetery.

"Hoshiki," Kilik said, kicking the 6th seat in the shoulder to get his attention. "Who won?"

"Kotetsu Isane," he muttered, his mouth revealing a face full of broken teeth.

Uroshi looked at Kilik (who was now technically Acting Captain) with the most puzzled expression he could muster. "Isn't she the lieutenant of the 4th?"

Hoshiki grunted. "I'd rather fight Zaraki."

"You damn drunks say the weirdest freakin' shit," Kilik swore as he shook his head.

-:-

A knock came on Isane's office door while she was in the middle of catching up on paperwork. She had been too worked up to go back home, so she returned to her office in the 4th. In hindsight, it was a smart decision. She had a spare uniform in the office for when her regular one got too covered in gore, and she didn't want to walk in and have Hanataro wonder why her clothing was all cut up.

Isane wasn't officially on call, so no one should have even known she was there. "Yes?"

Unohana entered, and Isane immediately stood at attention. "Taicho," she acknowledged. "Is something wrong?"

"I was at home and received the most unusual report by hell butterfly," Unohana began. "Something about how a high-ranking member of the 4th division completely disabled the 11th division's active duty unit."

Isane began to sweat nervously. "Uh, yes, that _is_ unusual, isn't it?"

Unohana smiled. "Well, please find out who it was and commend them," she said simply. "And if anyone asks about the report, please tell them that you and your captain are proud to know that one of our officers was so concerned about their comrades in the 11th that they chose to perform an ad hoc test of their combat readiness skills. To think what would have happened to those shinigami in the field if they were so soundly trounced by a medic! Of all things," Unohana giggled. "So please tell whoever was responsible that _I'm glad we look out for our fellow officers,_ won't you, Isane-san?"

Isane blinked stupidly. "Yes, Taicho, I will," she said quickly, trying to catch herself. "Is... is there anything else?"

"No, that's all," Unohana smiled, and left without another word.

Isane sat back down and chuckled to herself. Unohana Taicho was such a darling.

-:-

_Doverfield, Pennsylvania _  
_USA_

Soifon, Rukia, Nanao, and Omaeda stood at the edge of the military compound.

Soifon was agitated as hell. She couldn't believe the Soutaicho had forced her to let these amateurs accompany her. It was bad enough that her lover had to go and get himself killed, but Kuchiki and Ise? Things were just not going her way today. Today was turning out to be straight from the outhouse.

"So far, so good," Nanao commented. "Let's go."

Soifon stared angrily at her. "This is not your mission, Ise _Shosho_," the title grinding out with mockery. "This is an infiltration, and if you don't remember, the Soutaicho put me in charge of this mission, regardless of whatever your rank is. I give the orders around here, understood?"

Nanao's mouth curled into a half-smile, half-snarl. "Of course, Soifon-_kun_," she fired back.

"Play nice," Rukia cautioned Nanao. Nanao was two ranks higher than her, but it didn't matter. It was just Nanao. "Bickering isn't going to help us."

Nanao relaxed and adjusted her glasses. "Lead the way, Soifon _Taicho_."

Soifon grimaced, but then gave the word. "Alright. Kuchiki, you come with me. Ise, follow Omaeda. Once we get in, Kuchiki and I will be responsible for Matsumoto's extraction. Your task is to disrupt operations, and then otherwise provide a distraction."

"Taicho," Omaeda interrupted, sounding offended. "You don't want me to come with you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Soifon retorted. "I don't want your hot and sticky face sweating on me all night."

"Lovely," Nanao muttered with a roll of her eyes, realizing immediately afterwards that she stole that little routine from Miyako.

Rukia was about to question Soifon's division of their party - after all, Rukia's mission was to disrupt operations and leave the rescue up to the others - but decided that Nanao would be better at causing havoc anyway. Besides, Soifon Taicho was irritated enough as it was.

Soifon turned to the compound. "Alright - let's go."

-:-

When Hinamori Momo came through the senkai gate, she found two men in dark suits and sunglasses waiting for her. They were standing up against the hood of an unmarked black Lincoln Zephyr. A small metal folding table had been opened slightly in front of them, although it was empty. The first thing Momo did was draw her sword. This was not exactly what she had expected.

"Whoa there, Ms. Lieutenant Hinamori-sama," the shorter one said. His accent was the thickest deep Southern Texas-Georgia-Caijun-whatever drawl Momo had ever heard. The -sama honorific sounded much more like "samm-mmuh". It was so dripping with excessive twang that Hinamori was almost sure it was fake. Almost. "We jus' came down here ta have a nice an' quiet conversayshun."

Hinamori's Korean-flavored English was laced with menace. "You kidnapped my comrade," she said dangerously, brandishing Tobiume.

"No more thanna you tried ta wipe a whole city offa map like yer ol' Cap'n Ay-zen," the agent said, his hands up in the air in a nonthreatening gesture. "We all know what tha big military 'slike, not all one heart ann one mind. Now why dontcha put 'way that thair sword so's we canna talk like civilized peeples."

Hinamori hesitated. "I don't trust you."

"Anna you a smaht lady," he answered with a sly grin. "But I's a hopin' us an' yoo can take this calmly now so's yoos kin give us somma time to be explainin' ahselves, seein' as how we ain't armed wit' nuthin'." he said simply. "Peeples a-callin' me Agent Morgan, and me's a-soh-see-uht o'er here is Johnson."

"Agent Johnson," the big man said in a deep, thick European accent. He was blonde and looked like he could rip a tree in half using nothing but half a pinky and his left nostril.

"Siggarette fo' the young lady?" Morgan offered, holding out a pack of Marlboros after lighting one up himself.

Momo's eyes turned into cautious slits. "How do you know if I smoke?"

"I din't," Morgan shrugged charismatically. "I jus' bein' polite. Ya see, werra not like 'em folks up at Dovafield. You a-catchin' what I's be sayin', Ms. Lieutenant-sama?"

Hinamori sheathed Tobiume and cautiously took a cigarette, snapping her fingers to light it before she took a long drag. She carefully watched the agents to look for a reaction. Johnson continued to stand at attention, but Morgan was impressed.

"Clearly the grand kido masta we's heard about," he said.

"And just how did you know that?"

"Wells now, Ms. Lieutenant-sama, we do ah 'omework, ya see?" he smiled greasily. "It wouldn't be very nice o' us ta have you come heer anna be wastin' yer time, now would it?"

Momo's eyes darted across the pair of agents in front of her. None of this smelled right at all. On the other hand, her reiatsu scans registered no one but the two agents in front of her. She was confident in her ability enough to know that even if she couldn't overpower them (which she probably could), she could easily escape. "Where is she?"

"To be's pe'fectly honest witchyu, Idunno," Morgan sighed. "We's from down heer in tha San Antonio division. We's not too aligned with 'em yankee asshats up in Penn-sill-vain-eeuh. Which is why I asked ya to come on down heer and have a chat wit' us."

Momo took another long drag on her cigarette before flicking it to the ground in annoyance more than anything else. What he said had perked her interest - somehow, there had been communication between this shady group of humans and Soul Society. Despite that interesting point, Momo was getting aggravated. Get to the point, already. "I'm listening."

"Alrighty then, Ms. Lieutenant-sama, let's be a-providin' you wittan explanayshun," Morgan began. "I's explain how I be a-knowing ya, seein' as how this ain't the first time you's and me's a-met before."

Momo's eyes narrowed as she tried to detect whether or not he way lying.

"Now, you's fer sure ain't gonna recognize me right away, 'cause I was jus' a lil' boy back then when ya sent my grandpappy back ta that otha side," he noted. "Thoughs I remember yoos had two short pigtails down in tha back o' yer head. Nows you got that thair bun. Very ladylike, I be sayin' - now don'tchoo be a-givin' me no skeptical looks now, I remember how yoos fought that sunuvacrap monster from outta space and took a big nasty gash in yer ribs thair that I'm sure needed a whole host a' stitches o' whatever it is yer shinigami doctors a-be doin'. Anna I know you's remember some lil' squirt with a big-ass banadage o'er the biggest-ass mosquito bite on his face, 'cuz ya knows yoos was suhprized that I could see yoo. You was with some otha guy, too, butta I don't be rememberin' much about 'im otha than he seemed like he was listenin' ta ya all the time."

Hinamori was still skeptical, but she recalled both the injury and the unusual little boy. It had been right before she had been promoted to vice captain; roughly forty-odd years ago. She was eighth seat at the time, and Hitamake-san had indeed been with her on that mission. Momo realized that he had to be telling the truth, since there was no way he could know all of those details had he not been there himself.

" 'Notha siggarette fo' the young lady?"

Momo skeptically took another, lighting it and taking a puff. She could feel the nicotine soothing her nerves on edge, and returned her attention to Morgan. "Go on."

"Well, me says to meself, 'that thair lady's my hero,' anna I be dreamin' my whole life to do what she did so that grandmamas and grandpappies everywhere can be assured that they's gonna make it to the otha side, jus' like mine. And so's I go see out this heer ay-jun-cee I be a-workin' for righ' now, so's I canna do what I be doin' jus' like yoos and yer fella frens, ya see?"

"So what do you want with me?" Momo asked suspiciously, spitting out at his feet.

The gesture was clear, but Morgan seemed to ignore it. "Nows I be a-sayin' this - I donna like what them damn yankee fuck-ups be doin' up there in the central office. They's a be doin' all kinds of stupid shiittt and botherin' yoos shinigami, rather than helpin' 'em like the rest o' us. So's me and Johnson get wind that yer nice shinigami folk gonna come and flatten our little rat's nest out up in Dovafield, and I says y'all be doin' us a great favo'. But I wanna make sure that you donna start lookin' to come after us law-abidin' folk after yer done crushin' them stupid shitttheads, 'cause we dontgotno arg-yoo-mens witt yoos shinigami folk. So's I comes ta make yoos a deal."

Momo wasn't sure if she was bored or just didn't want to be bothered. When she had received word she was going on a special mission, she hadn't been expecting a country bumpkin and his big brawler lackey. Nonetheless, she kept up the aura of tension. "What kind of 'deal'?"

"Heer, Ms. Lieutenant-sama, you feel free to take another," Morgan said, offering her another cigarette. Momo took it without comment. "I's be sayin' this: Me and my pal Johnson o'er heer will make sure we get ya tha ones responsible fer kidnappin' yer buddy in Dovafield, so's yoo can be sure ta get yer revenge on the peeples yoo want. The honcho's name 's Smith, and he wasa the one who authorized the deal, and in fact, he's quite tha man in charge. In exchange, yoos letta the rest o' us get on wit our business killin' hollows and the like. 'Cuz really, we ain't gotta be ann-tag-go-nist-ick ta each otha, ya know?"

"Not much of an offer," Hinamori said, tossing out her third cigarette and shrugging her shoulders. She tried not to show that she had noticed this was the first time he had used the term 'hollow' instead of 'monster'.

Morgan offered her another, which she accepted. "Anna right choo are, me be a-thinkin' too. S'why we came heer witha gift fer ya, ta convince you that we's be meanin' what we sayin'."

Momo narrowed her eyes even tighter. "What gift would that be?"

"Wells now, see, in awder to be a-presentin' this heer gift now, I's need to explainin' meself firs'. Sees, me and my pal Johnson o'er heer may be in tha business o' killin' monsters, but I ain't gonna pretend that me's a god, ya understan'? That's jus' bein' sacreelijous. I kinna shoot 'em hollows with three 'undred bullets untils they be shot dead, but I ain't gonna mistake meself fer bein' on tha level of no shinigami god of death, now. Yous followin' what I be a-sayin', Ms. Lieutenant-sama?"

Hinamori let a puff of smoke escape her lungs before responding. The idea that humans could kill hollows with bullets - or even hit them - was evidence that they could have been behind the attack on the Vaizard. In fact, it was pretty strong evidence - they would be hard pressed to claim that it hadn't been part of their greater organization. Momo kept her thoughts to herself. "Forgive me, but I think you're just spewing words to gauge my reaction."

Morgan laughed. "You's a smart one," he smiled. "I like yoos, Ms. Lieutenant-sama. Yoos got sass. But I ain't spittin' words, now. Heer me out, sees? S'like this: in ah line o' work, yoos got ta rememba that yoo ain't tha Big Shit Walkin', you understan' whatta I be a sayin'? 'Cuz the moment yoos forget it, ya bound ta do sumptin' stupid.

"Nows, keepin' in wit that fee-lah-so-fee, yoos gotta rememba that thair ain't no man on this whole goddamn earth hoo can be trusted wit powwa o' any kind. Tell me now, Ms. Lieutenant-sama, yoos know o' any man that could e'er be trustworthy 'bout anything?"

The slits of Momo's eyes were no wider than needles. Shiro-chan was the only male she had ever found to be trustworthy, and he wasn't even a man yet. So the answer was clear. "No," she practically retorted.

"Eggzaktally, Ms. Lieutenant-sama, yoos pe'fectly right. Sees, some things man just ain't capable of holdin' in 'is hands, o' othawise he jus' gonna send the whole goddamn world to 'ell, amIright?

"So's we - ah organization, me be meanin' - managed to get ah hands onna fewa these zanpakutou. Dontcha ask me how, Idunno and I ain't be understandin' it, either. Alls I know is that theys all different. Summof 'em pretty simple, sees? Like a sword that becomes a different sword, shit like that. Not too bad fer someone to be a-usin' ta fight monsters and all that jazz. But then thair be some that no man should ever be a-holdin', yoo understan'? S'jus' not so safe delegatin' that much ree-sponz-ibb-ill-uh-tee to one flawed man o' anotha, ya know whattI be a-sayin'?"

Momo didn't give any kind of acknowledgment. She waited cautiously for him to continue, pulling another drag on the cigarette and blowing the toxic smoke out of her nose. Hinamori didn't look all that different than a dragon who had lost its patience.

"So's the central office has a rule that they's be a-keepin' any a-those that they find from tha rest o' us, seein' as how ya can't be trustin' nobody with that thair danjerrous shit. Anna we suddenly be a-realizin', that summone be gatherin' a bits too much powwa for demselves, see whattImean?"

"How altruistic of you," Momo sighed in annoyance as she spit at his feet again, blowing smoke towards his direction in a classic 'fuck you' gesture. "You expect me to believe that you're so noble? So far, I'm not impressed."

Morgan's smile didn't budge. "Now I jus' be beggin' yer pashunce, Ms. Lieutenant-sama, 'cuz I'm gettin' to the end o' my lil' preamble real soon." He paused to take a breath. "So's Johnson an' I go's up to do some investigification, an' we be findin' some thangs up there that ain't no man have a right to be ownin'. We's assessin' what we be findin' - an' I tellin' ya I don't be likin' what we's findin' - when we comes 'cross wha's in this heer box that Johnson be bringin' out right now."

Without much further fanfare, the hulking blonde European opened up the trunk of the car and pulled out a huge, long, oddly-shaped metal suitcase. Placing it down on the small folding table in front of him, the legs of the table sink nearly three inches into the mud under its massive weight. Johnson then went around the opposite end of the table and waited. Momo could feel the entire box as one big reishi vortex. It was like any reishi that went near it just got sucked into a black hole.

"Now let me be clear," Morgan continued, "we ain't got no agenda otha than tha one I jus' described. S'All about self-survival on my part, so's I kin keep doin' my job, sees? This part here is jus' a piece o' good will to showa yoo that I be meanin' what I's be sayin. It ain't binding in any way - yoos still gots the chance to leave me wit nuthin' if you be feelin' like it."

"Get on with it," Momo threatened. "And enough with the cigarettes, already," she protested as she saw him reach for the pack; despite the fact that she wanted at least three more.

"Alright, Ms. Lieutenant-sama, yoos the boss, now," Morgan teased. "S'simple, really. We's find this anna we says, _'_now hoos in any ooniverse in all the kingdoms o' 'eaven an' 'ell could be trusted wit this?_'_ Anna we says _nobody_ - 'till a fren' o' ahs says, _'_no, thair's gotta be _somebody_,' anna so's we's doos some ree-search 'cuz I knows sure as 'ell _I_ can't be trusted wit it. So's we's find _you_, and yooda one person, tha only one person in all o' forsaken kingdom o' forevva an' evva, hoo has tha right to decide. Anna so heer's it is - nows, Ms. Lieutenant-sama, it's yers."

With that, Johnson opened the case - and staring out from among a half-foot-thick case of pure, reishi-sapping bloodlust stone, was a nightmare. A nightmare that should have ended long ago.

Hinamori Momo was staring at none other than a living, breathing, pulsating Kyouka Suigetsu.

* * *

___Sorry this chapter took a while, work has been psycho-busy. _**Reviews, please!** Next chapter: The invasion begins!


	18. The Seduction, Part II

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

**_Author's note: _**_Do not be alarmed, the name of the chapter does not imply that you missed part 1. :)_

_**Translator's note:** 'Moshi-moshi' is a phrase that is commonly used to answer a telephone and is basically a polite way of saying 'hello'. 'Shinjirarenai' literally means "I don't believe it". In common Japanese parlance, however (because true swearing is frowned upon in public), it can sometimes be better translated as, "Oh my god, I can't freaking believe this!" _

* * *

_"Where's the chocolate?"_  
_~Omaeda Kohichiyo; approximately 170 years from now_

* * *

Momo was flipping out in bitter, confused, embroiled anger. "Is this some kind of sick joke! ?"

Morgan took a step back as the shinigami's reiatsu flared in a peach haze. "I ain't jokin', Ms. Lieutenant-sama, anna I mean it when I says I dont be a-trustin' that in tha hands o' anyone but yoo."

Momo's reiatsu was still glaring but she held her ground patiently, trying to divine what exactly was the intent.

"Yoos gots ta undastand, Ms. Lieutenant-sama, this is jus' as much 'bout my survival as it yers. I gots enough probbblums worryin' if I can be a-trustin' my commander - nows I gots to be worryin' 'bout trustin' my own eyes? Fuck that, I says. Yoos gots ta undastand thats I's nots willin' to be takin' that kind o' chances. I donts be a-carin' what tha 'ell yoos do wit it - destroy it, keep it, throw it down ta tha bottom of the deep blue sea - that's yer choice, Ms. Lieutenant-sama, buts I's gots to know it ain't gonna bite me in the ass. So's it's yers now, go on an' keep it, Ms. Lieutenant-sama."

Momo let her flare dissipate, but kept the angry face. "Quit calling me that, it's irritating."

"I's sorry, Ma'am; I's jus' tryin' to be respeckful. Izzat alright wit yoos if I may be a-callin' ya Ma'am instead?"

"Fine, whatever," Momo dismissed impatiently. "You- I-" she sputtered. "This- this is insane."

Aizen. There was no way. How could it be? Aizen was dead. Kurosaki-san's hollowfied getsuga tenshou had cut him in half from nose to toes. Momo had personally seen Aizen's soul dragged into the Gates of Hell. His zanpakutou had been left dead. It had been confirmed by multiple captains of the Gotei 13. His dead zanpakutou had been tested by Central 46. Reishi scanners and reiatsu investigation had confirmed Aizen was deceased. Proof after proof had been offered; no illusion could be sustained that long. Aizen was dead. He had to be dead; he had to be.

He had to be dead.

Right?

Aizen... Aizen... are you really... dead? Aizen... Taicho?

"Now I knows what yoos be thinkin'," Morgan interrupted her stream of fretting. "Yoos be thinkin' it's some sort o' evil trap." He let that word hang in the air.

No, not what I was thinking, but it certainly comes to mind, Momo thought.

"So's I be's pe'fectly honest witcha, Ma'am - it may very well be trapped. Idunno. If it is, then it was booby-trapped before we found it, shoved it into the fiercest spirit-blockin' box we's could find, and smuggled it to wheres we's ah right now," he said, sounding honest. "But I found it with the rest o' them zanpakutou, so I's be guessin' it ain't trapped. But I's be a-figurin' thats yoos shinigamis be able ta betta tell than lil' ol' me, so's if it _is _summakinda dirty trick, yoos betta ta deal wit it then me. "

Hinamori stared at the blade in the box. Kyouka Suigetsu. She couldn't understand it. It was beyond all reason.

Morgan chuckled. "Heer, now," he said as he tossed her the pack of cigarettes. "Yoos be lookin' like ya need anotha one or three or five o' these."

Momo chain-smoked through four cigarettes in under two minutes, pausing only to spit and twitch and shudder as she tried to collect her thoughts. This can't be. It can't be. It's impossible. There is no way. How... is it real? Is it even... Is it really his? Is it really Aizen's katana? Really the Kyouka Suigetsu that - the Kyouka Suigetsu that stabbed me through the stomach, but really pierced me through the heart?

It was Tobiume who restored her focus. _There's only one way to find out, Momo-san._

Momo took a look at the pulsating zanpakutou before her. There was no choice. With a skeptical fear, Hinamori reached for the hilt.

-:-

Like Nii-sama, Soifon had trained shunpo under Yoruichi; widely acknowledged to be the fastest shunpo practitioner ever; even faster than the Soutaicho himself. Rukia, who had first improved her shunpo under Ukitake Taicho's training and then later refined it under Nii-sama, was pretty fast herself. She could keep up with both her brother and Ichigo in first bankai form, although she wouldn't say that she was on their level. So it wasn't surprising that she had to strain herself to keep up with the 2nd division captain, although she didn't fall behind.

Rukia knew that without her zanpakutou, however, she was the weakest link on this mission. Her hand to hand skills were good but not on par with Soifon, and while she was even one of the most powerful kido users among the upper echelon of the Gotei 13, Nanao made her look like an academy recruit by comparison. Without Sode no Shirayuki, she had no shikai or bankai to aid her if things got nasty. (Okay, so perhaps she was better than Omaeda. Not that it was worth much.)

She had been fortunate enough to be allowed to come, seeing that the NATA had been intruding on her domain, but honestly Rukia was not entirely as pacifist as her captain was. If it was possible, Rukia would avenge her third seat's death. Not for the sake of vengeance - because that was pointless - but for the sake of his honor. It was something that Kotsubaki deserved that Rukia knew he he never quite received.

In some ways, Rukia felt it was a shame that Kotsubaki Sentaro never received it. He had been a good third seat, even if he hadn't been exceptional like some of the other third seats she had known - Ikkaku, Kiyone, Hana Tsubaki, Hitamake Hanzo. Kotsubaki had never quite lived up to lieutenant-promotable material, but in the end he had been a very reliable third seat and had certain unpraised qualities. For example, he had been exceptional in morale-building among a division who had been badly overextended in the past few years, and his paperwork was always meticulous and on time; and he was dutiful.

He did what any good subordinate should do - follow orders quickly, efficiently, and without need for follow-up. That was something that went unappreciated among the upper ranks;considering that most of the glory went to the high-profile combats of the lieutenants, who did most of the glory fights unless the captains were really needed. Being a third seat was a thankless job, and although Rukia had always treated Kotsubaki with respect, she realized in hindsight that he didn't have the name recognition that Kiyone had. Kiyone had become famous for being Rukia's most devoted follower; and had earned respect by virtue of the fact that 'the fearsome Grand Lady of the Kuchiki House' had forgiven and respected her for the spectacle she had once made. Kotsubaki had no such name recognition. It was only the top twenty seats of her division that had witnessed Rukia and Kotsubaki's interactions; he had never managed to achieve that widespread awe that Kiyone had just for holding Rukia's respect and attention.

Rukia only thought about it now, but had it not been for Kotsubaki keeping things running smoothly - without ever asking her why she placed so much responsibility on his shoulders - she wouldn't have been able to "tango" with Ichigo most of the month. There was no way he didn't know what she was doing, even though he never asked. Kotsubaki Sentaro had been exceptionally respectful of Rukia's privacy. With a brief tear in her eye, Rukia realized that maybe, in his own way, Kotsubaki Sentaro had tried to help. If so, he had gone above and beyond: he had given her the necessary time and space to try and build a family, something not easy to do with the demands of her position. Thinking about it more, Rukia was positive that he had done this intentionally, doing the silent duty that he knew she needed. It was a gift that few could understand and appreciate - but to the barren Kuchiki Rukia, there was no gift she should honor more.

So that was what she would do. It may not be her mission, but it was her motivation; her obligation. Tonight, she would seek to avenge him. For his honor - as a soldier, but also for something more important than that. For his selflessness: an honor unto itself. Honor well deserved should be honor well received.

Soifon stopped short, and Rukia flashed into place behind her. They were fairly close to the compound entrance by now, and it was dark. They had waited until nightfall to start the mission, and now the inky black sky was penetrated only by a handful of inconspicuous lamposts. _  
_

Although Rukia personally found Soifon to be annoying and/or grating, on the job she was glad to be working with her. Both women took their duty very seriously. At some level, duty was really the only thing Soifon had. It wasn't like she had any real friends. Supposedly, Soifon had a respectful comraderie with Komamura Taicho and Hitsugaya Taicho. Rukia knew both of them well, though (Komamura as her zanjutsu sensei, and Hitsugaya from his longtime relationship with her sister-in-law Karin), and knew that Soifon's relationship with them was strictly professional; completely impersonal. She could understand why - Soifon was all about the mission at hand, and never deviated from that.

Rukia thought it was funny that Soifon and Nanao didn't get along so well. Like Soifon, Nanao also threw herself into missions very seriously, although Nanao was different in the sense that she _enjoyed_ them. With the exception of this particular expedition, Soifon didn't seem to care one way or the other - the mission was the mission, you don't like or dislike it; you just do it. Rukia, on the other hand, was in this for entirely different motivations; in this case, avenging Kotsubaki and stopping the NATA from interfering with her division. She wasn't like Nanao, who actively sought out missions just so that she could enjoy the field of battle. It was almost like Nanao was a kindred spirit of Kenpachi Zaraki sometimes.

The captain gestured to the guards at the gate, and then motioned for Rukia to wait here. Rukia complied, and within a flash, Soifon had knocked out the two unsuspecting guards without being seen.

Wow, Rukia thought. That's impressive.

Soifon gestured for Rukia to follow, and they entered the compound through the west gate.

-:-

Ichihime flashed into the 12th. "Urahara-san? Urahara-san!"

Rantao turned from her computer, not bothering to see who was walking in first. "He's unavailable, can I help you?" Oh damn, she thought. I just finished with one Grand Lady, and now I have the good graces to make an ass of myself in front of another. Terrific.

"Where is he?" Ichihime demanded harshly.

"He's not here right now, Banzo-no-kimi," Rantao said politely, trying very hard to remember the proper honorific for a Head of House.

Well, for most Heads of House, anyway.

_"GODDAMNIT, DO I LOOK LIKE SOME STUFFY THREE THOUSAND YEAR OLD HAG TO YOU?"_

Rantao was positive she could see the capillaries bursting in Banzo's eyes. Her face, which was half covered in a hideously ugly, red splotchy birthmark, was a vision of pure I-want-to-stab-something terror that Rantao Kiku hoped she would never see again as long as she lived. And then some. "Uh, sorry," Rantao squeaked. Heavens, I can't please anyone today. "A thousand pardons, Banzo-fukutaicho-dono."

Ichihime's head was about to explode, but she was only now realizing that this was not exactly the right first impression she should be making with the new lieutenant.. "For fuck's sake, Rantao-san, if you're going to insist on fancy honorifics, 'Banzo-senpai' is more than enough deference, please! Now when can I meet with Urahara Taicho?"

Rantao took a nervous breath. "I'm not sure; he's on a mission at the moment. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Do you know anything about this whole zanpakutou business?" Ichihime asked, frustrated beyond description.

"Yes, Urahara Taicho has had me intimately involved in the details. Why, what happened?"

"My late father's zanpakutou was stolen from the Banzo House cemetery. That thing is a fucking monster, Rantao-san. If they get their hands on it, we're in deep shit."

It was at that moment that Rantao had a realization. She realized that she had an opportunity to prove something - to prove that she was actually capable of doing something right for a change. "Alright, Banzo-senpai, let me get some information. What was the zanpakutou's name?"

"Claymore," Ichihime said, irritated that she wasn't able to do more than that.

"The sword of Banzo Tanabi-san, correct?" Rantao inquired as she punched data in the computer.

"Yes," Ichihime confirmed, impatient.

"Alright, let me see here..." Rantao said, scrolling through the file.

Oh my sweet potato pie, Rantao thought. We better find this thing fast.

-:-

Omaeda was tiptoeing down the halls, scouting left and right in the east wing of the compound.

This wing seemed to be filled with all sorts of offices on one side, with some conference rooms, laboratories, and computer rooms stationed along the other. The lights were off and it seemed that no one was around, which surprised him; but it was late here in the US; so it wasn't completely unexpected.

In between halls, the walls were decorated with pictures portraying a vast array of unusual scenes. There were several large canvasses of the Olympian wars of Greek mythology, others depicted Musashi. Some were fairly inventive; such as a completely anachronistic painting of Edo during the Tokugawa Shogunate that ridiculously depicted ronin defeating men with machine guns. Omaeda got a good laugh out of that one. A nice, loud laugh. One that would likely attract attention.

Omaeda treaded lightly down the blue industrial carpet, surveying around him. His eyes caught very little of interest: filing cabinets (which he rotely opened and closed, leaving a loud clunk and thunk as the metal drawers went in and out), shelves full of books on the U.S. legal code, potted plants... and a vending machine.

_Score!_

The second division lieutenant made his way down to where the machine stood, its backlight buzzing over an assortment of greasy chips, salty pretzels, chocolate bars and packaged cookies. Not bothering to survey the environment, Omaeda unplugged the unit from the wall and then elbowed the glass. It cracked loudly, and a few more noisy crash-and-smash blows finally gave him a treasure chest full of junk food.

After waiting for a moment to see if anyone heard him, he was fairly sure that he had gone undetected. "Ah, now I can really get to to work," he said to himself, taking a bag of cookies, a chocolate bar with caramel pecans, and a package of jalapeno-cheddar nachos that would probably crunch loud enough to be registered on the Richter scale.

Munching on the cookies first, he dutifully ignored the trail of crumbs that most would not see in the dark as he continued scouting out the area, searching for anything that might resemble a fuse box, phone switch, or ethernet router. Not that he really knew what an ethernet router was, but he had seen pictures of them in his Onmitsukido training.

Finishing the cookies, he tossed the empty bag on the floor. Not like he cared if he trashed up the place.

He was then chomping on the candy bar when his cell phone began to vibrate. "Moshi-moshi?"

"Anything yet?"

"Not yet, Shosho," he answered, holding back a belch he decided he would save for later.

"Are you talking with your mouth full?" Nanao hissed into the phone. "Ugh, you're such a slob. Hurry up already."

Omaeda was going to retort but she hung up the phone on him. "Whatever," he shrugged, and continued down the hall.

Through one of the open office doors on the left, he could see that someone had left some papers lying around on the desk. Another glance told him that there was a safe in the room, which made him inclined to search the office.

"First things first," he thought out loud, and opened up the nachos crammed the entire contents of the bag in his mouth, crunching and munching for a few minutes until he had swallowed the entire contents in one gulp, a sight that would have been truly disturbing had anyone been there to witness it. He threw the empty bag on the floor. "Alright, might as well get on with it," he muttered, and nonchalantly flipped on the light switch to the office.

It was then that he set off the alarm.

"Damnit!" he screamed as loudly as shinigamily possible. Omaeda clumsily stumbled into the hallway - klaxons and red lights began blaring. Sweat rolled down every part of his flabby body as operatives began flooding into the hallway in hot pursuit, each one very visibly armed.

As he always did, Omaeda turned tail and ran. "T-T-Taicho! Where are you when I need you?" he whined at the top of his lungs, looking over his shoulder as the crowd began to chase after him, He ducked to avoid bullets, and then turned a sharp corner down another hallway.

"Get back here!" one of the agents called.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Omaeda called back. "I don't even have a sword! You think I'm crazy? I can't take on all of you! I'll get killed!"

Another one of the suits started gaining on him, "You're gonna get killed anyway, trespasser!"

Omaeda screamed like a pathetic little animal as he dashed down another corridor. Breathing heavily, he looked left and then right before bolting down the right hallway.

"GET HIM!" he heard one of them shout after him.

"No! Really, I'm not that interesting! I promise!" Omaeda shouted back as he tripped and fell on his face.

"THERE HE IS!"

Omaeda scrambled to his feet and turned left. "Somebody help me!" he whined as gunshots went off everywhere. The klaxons were still pounding his eardrums.

"You can't outrun us, butterball fatass!" someone in a black suit and shades shouted in hot pursuit. "We're gonna slaughter that blubbery bottom of yours!"

Panting heavily now, Omaeda charged down the hall, crashing through a set of double doors and then through another door to the left until he met a dead end.

Turning around, the pack of seven or eight operatives had caught up, and one of them stepped forward. He was tall, bald, and clean shaven; and wore sunglasses despite the already poorly lit hallways. "Would you look at that! We have the Two of Clubs here."

"Uh, 'Two of Clubs'?"

"Excuse me, where are my manners?" the slimy man smirked. "You're the second division lieutenant, Omaeda Marechiyo."

"And who are you?" Omaeda panted.

The man smiled. "That's of no concern to you, shinigami." He gestured to his team to prepare an attack. Every one of them was carrying a knife or sword of some kind, but most of them were holding firearms aimed directly at him. "Any last words, Lieutenant?"

"Uh, maybe, uh... just one thing?"

"Hmmm? And what might that be?"

Omaeda returned the smirk. _"I'm the vice captain of the Covert Ops. There's no way I would trigger an alarm if I didn't want to."_

Nanao immediately let the _Bakudo #26: Bending Light_ drop, suddenly appearing right in front of Omaeda. "Hello boys," she greeted, her smile twisted into a diabolical grin of delight. "Let me show you one of my favorites - _Hado #83: **Hellfire**."_

-:-

_Hinamori Momo,_ it said. _We know each other well._

Momo lept back, startled; her fear overtaking her. Pushing herself forward, she reached for the hilt again.

_I understand your apprehension. It is only natural. You fear me. You fear what I did to you._

No, Momo denied. You - you can't be-

_I am,_ the blade answered. _I am the one you call Kyouka Suigetsu. It is I and no other._

But- but Aizen is dead!

_And so he is,_ the sword answered. _You speak the truth._

Momo swallowed the painful lump in her throat as she knew what she must ask next. How do I know- How do I know you are Kyouka Suigetsu? Prove it to me!

And so the sword did. It showed her every sound and color of her swirling emotion, the admiration and idolization. It showed her complete understanding; each and every one of Momo's senses drowned in perfect recall. The smell of Aizen's haori when he was close; the soft, kind expressions he had given her even as he nearly killed her; it was there in their shared consciousness. It revealed to Momo such deep nuances about her early years - the longing crush and swooning over her captain, the knight-in-shining-armor-pedestal she had placed him upon - followed by the betrayal. The shock, the disbelief. The denial. The grief, the anger, the hope it wasn't true. The hurt and the pain and the suffering and the void. It was so deep and subtle and detailed and clear; and Momo knew the truth. Only a sword that had slain her very dreams could know those secrets.

It- it _is_ you.

_It is._

You - you really are Kyouka Suigetsu.

She could feel the sword smile. _I am the god who never was,_ it replied smugly.

You are no god, Hinamori protested. You are not a god! You are no god of mine!

_No, I am not. For I am just a sword. But **you** could be a god, couldn't you, Hinamori Momo? You could become your own god. You are the only person you trust anyway, why not have faith in yourself? Is that not what you believe? That your path is the path alone?_

What? No! No, I- I- No! I-

_I speak the truth, don't I, Momo-san?_

No! I- I-

_You yourself made that promise: "No one will ever cross me again. Everyone would know it, breathe it, live it - I will not lie down and let people trample all over me." Did you not promise yourself to walk the path of greatness like none who have come before you?_

...I- I should destroy you, Momo panicked.

_No, you should wield me. Think of the possibilities. Bankai, Momo-san. The elusive bankai. I could teach it to you. Tobiume's bankai; my bankai. I could make you a god._

No, no, no- you- you're- you're evil, I can't-

___You judge me before you know me, Momo-san. _Can an ant call the spider evil for eating it? Can the spider call a bird evil for tearing it apart and feeding it to its young? Can the bird call man evil for taking its precious eggs? Can man call Fate evil for the obstacles it places before him? Who is to say that there is not even a higher being above Fate? Is it impossible to imagine a god whose morality we simply do not understand? Does your lover seem to know right from wrong, even while it is so obvious to you and I? 

I- I- I have no- I have no lover, I- I never have, I... No, wait, you are evil! I shouldn't be listening to you! You are trying to play with my mind! I can't listen to you! No! I won't, I-

_I am just a sword, Momo-san; a tool in the hands of the god who chooses to accept my power. Those who accept it choose their own path. Not all of mankind stomps mercilessly on every insect it finds; nor must a god find the lives of mankind unimportant. You are free to choose your own path and make the world according to your liking. Is that evil? Is it evil to want to reshape the world into something better than it was before? You can achieve your dreams and desires like no other can, dear Momo-san, all while improving the lives of all around you in the manner you see fit. Let me help you. That is what I desire. Allow me to guide you._

But- but-

_Open your soul, Momo-san. Let me see you face to face. Let me show you the truth of what I speak._

**_No!_** Momo protested, but no matter how much she believed that she didn't want to, her deepest soul felt otherwise - and Tobiume pulled both of them into the inner world of Kyouka Suigetsu.

-:-

Soifon and Rukia came to a stairway in the northwestern wing. Faint traces of shinigami reiatsu could be felt both above and below, so they split up. Rukia headed up the stairs and into a hallway of what looked like a regular administrative area that had been closed down for the night, with nothing particularly peculiar.

Cautiously, Rukia headed down the hallway. It was quiet, but at the end of the corridor, she could see light coming from the left side. It looks like someone's in the office late, she thought.

Slowly advancing down the hallway, Rukia cursed herself for not being better trained in non-combat bakudo. Her hado and combat bakudo skills were very strong, and she had a talent for medical kido; but she had never really practiced spells like Bakudo #26. The ability to go invisible would have been particularly useful right about now.

Flashing effortlessly, she hid behind random objects in the hallway as she moved towards the lit office: a potted plant, a small couch, a chair, a vending machine. Truthfully, her shunpo was fast enough that if someone made a move to open the door, she could probably flash all the way down the hallway and around the corner without being seen. Still, she didn't want to take any chances. All of them had limiters on this mission, and Rukia wasn't eager to test her constraints.

Coming to the edge of the door, she heard an agitated conversation from within the office, although she couldn't make out the words. Carefully pressing her ear to the door, she channeled her reiatsu scanning. Inside was a human, a plus, and something else that had an aura of spiritual pressure but was way too faint to discern otherwise. Relying on her reiatsu scanning to detect someone coming down the opposite end of the hall, she focused on trying to understand the conversation.

"...Q, you're asking me to ... but I ..."

Rukia strained harder to hear the words; it was still very muffled.

"Well, we need faster production," an angry voice said in distinctly American English.

"There's nothing I can do about that," came a more gentle voice, although the response was in Greek.

"What incentives can we offer?"

"Books, but you can only get so far."

"There are other incentives," the American threatened. "We can beat your ass to a bloody pulp, How's that for an incentive?"

"What good will that do? You've broken me enough. There's nothing you can do to me that hasn't already been done."

"Tough words from a man who's never been tortured."

"Go ahead, torture me," the gentle man said nonchalantly. "My flesh will never hurt more than my soul."

"I don't have to torture _you_, Kyon."

Kyon? Where did Rukia know that name from?

"You wouldn't dare touch her!"

"Of course not," the American replied smugly. "But I could use this."

Rukia couldn't see inside, so she had no idea what he was referring to.

The Kyon person seemed to be concerned. "That's _barbaric_," he spat. "You're even more inhumane then I thought."

"Me? Inhumane? That's a bit over the top, don't you think, Kyon? After all, I would hardly call her arrangements anything less than everything she ever wanted."

"She's a prisoner!"

"She's a well-cared-for _patient_," the American replied, although Rukia noted that he had responded to Kyon's request in perfect-yet-accented Greek instead of English this time. "She gets the absolute best care and attention. Orders all the way from the top. Setting her into the wild would destroy her, Kyon. You know that. It's not like she's improved over the years, has she?" he suggested, his slimy, slithering tone clearly indicating an implied threat.

"You're the devil!" Kyon shouted.

"Correction, I'm a doctor," the man replied harshly, this time reverting back to English. "And if the treatment is not producing the desired results, then I'll change it!"

"You can't use that thing on her! Smith would cut your eyeballs out!"

"SILENCE!" the American roared. "Kyon, you'll have production increased to two per week by the end of this month, or I'm going to excercise my options. I have people to report to and quotas to fill, too, you know. Now get out of here before I lose my patience for this farce!"

Rukia's eavesdropping was interrupted when klaxons roared, and the first thing that came to mind was, _'Goddamnit, Omaeda, you really piss me off!'_ Rukia flashed out of the way as she heard the door begin to open. From behind a vending machine, she saw a man in a black suit and tie come charging down the hallway. He was holding a sheathed katana.

Swiftly sweeping her foot out to catch him by surprise, the man did a faceplant straight into the floor, and Rukia immediately stepped on his wrist and kicked the katana out of reach. Her second foot pounded out the base of his skull, and she heard the grinding crunch of his nose breaking against the hard floor. With simultaneous strikes of her fingers right behind his ears (where the skull failed to protect the brain), he passed out immediately.

Rukia immediately flash-stepped over to the fallen katana and picked it up, slipping the sheath through her ribbon belt. It wasn't Sode no Shirayuki, but at least she had a katana - although it was a touch longer than she was used to and slightly heavier.

_Hey, who are you?_

The sudden telepathic communication startled her. Hello! ?

_Hello? You're a shinigami, right?_

Rukia looked down at the sword. She was still holding the hilt. You mean you're alive?

_Duh, I'm a zanpakutou. Whatsa matter, never seen one before?_ it teased.

What's your name? Who is your owner? Rukia didn't honestly expect an answer to the question.

_My name is Laevateinn._

Shinjiraranai! Rukia swore. Did you say _Laevateinn_? Are you really the Norse twig plucked by Loki?

The blade sighed back at her. _That was just some goofy story my dumbass shinigami owner, Wayland Smith, made up after drinking too much ale in an Earthly viking bar three thousand years ago._

Oh. Wait - what are you doing here? Where's your master?

_To answer your second question first, my owner is dead. To answer your first question, I have no idea. I was hoping you could tell me. Now, are you gonna answer my question - who are you?_

13th Division Vice Captain, Kuchiki Rukia.

_Wow! A Kuchiki! What a privilege!_

Rukia's conversation was interrupted as someone emerged from the office. He was of medium-height; a lanky man with tousled, mousy-brown hair and worried eyes. He was wearing a pair of slacks and a collared shirt, and his reiatsu indicated that he was the plus who had been in the room. When he saw her, he gasped.

Quickly finishing her conversation, Rukia gripped the hilt tightly. I'm sorry to ask this of you, but do you mind if I use you for a little bit? I don't have a sword with me. I left my zanpakutou at home so that it wouldn't get captured.

_Sure! Who could turn down a Kuchiki?_

Thanks, Rukia thought with an amused smile, then severed communication. Turning to fully face the man, Rukia raised her hands in a non-threatening pose. "Shhh," she said quietly in Greek. "I'm a friend. I'm here to help."

The startled man seemed nearly speechless. "...Lieutenant Kuchiki?" he whispered.

That caught her by surprise. "Do I know you?"

"No," he replied with a whisper, shaking his head in a daze and grabbing her by the hand. "Nevermind. Come with me!"

-:-

Omaeda cowered behind the Major General of the Kido Corps. With a single spell, all of the operatives had been reduced to nothing but smoking ash, and the walls and ceiling had disintegrated into dust. He was trying to end his coughing fit from the smoke, but eventually, he gagged and threw up. Maybe the bag of nachos was overdoing it.

"Ewww," Nanao said, stepping away from him. "Soifon Taicho was right. You really are gross."

"Don't you think you overdid it a little?" he shot back.

"It was our job to create a diversion. If that didn't get their attention, nothing will."

"I guess," Omaeda admitted. "Hey, we sure kicked ass there, didn't we?"

"There's no 'we' in that sentence, Omaeda," Nanao replied. "I kicked ass. You were just bait."

"You're no better than Taicho," he grumbled. "Mistreating your teammates."

"Shut up and get that flabby ass of yours up and moving. We've got agents to terrorize," Nanao said, snapping her fingers to cast wordless _Hado #56: Detonate _spells as she walked by, blowing up other segments of the building and demolishing infrastructure.

"What the hell are you doing?" Omaeda asked.

"Attracting attention, dimwit," Nanao sighed. "And really, why does everyone disparage Hell so much? Sheesh," she muttered, firing off Detonates left and right as swarms of suits met their demise. _Roy Mustang, eat your heart out!_ she thought, hitting a gas line with a snap. Thirty yards in front of them, an entire wing went _KABOOM_ as it exploded into a pile of rubble.

Now let's hope Rukia-san and Soifon find Matsumoto soon, Nanao hoped.

-:-

Urahara Kisuke brushed the sand and grime off of his haori. "Ne, Yoruichi-san, you ready?"

Yoruichi didn't answer him. She was too busy studying her apparel. "It's been such a long time since I've worn one of these, you know."

"It's only appropriate," he replied nonchalantly with his usual stupid grin plastered on his face. "We need the right attire, given where we are."

Yoruichi ignored him. "Oi, Kisuke - do you think this haori makes me look fat?"

Urahara dodged that question like it was a cannon full of napalm. "My, my, Yoruichi-san. I don't think we should keep the King of Hueco Mundo waiting, ne?"

Yoruichi stared up at the monstrous palace of Las Noches. "No, I suppose not," she grinned, and the two made their way to the main entrance.

* * *

_Things heat up! **Reviews, please!** Next chapter: "Elsewhere," in more ways than one - **you ****don't want to miss it! **_


	19. Entrance to the Inner Sanctum

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_"Training will never prepare you for the real world. It is a dangerous place, filled with lies and deceit. That which you see on the outside is not always that which is inside._

_"i know, stupid of me to write such a thing. Of course, i tell myself. How naive. But i think it's worth saying anyway - i have come to realize that maybe i've learned this about myself._

_"After all, i am a lieutenant. i didn't get to where i am because i'm 'cute and cheerful', as Izuru would always say._

_"Oh, Izuru. Another example. He seemed so happy sometimes, but inside he was always dead. i think he was always this way. Although, it's unfair of me to say that. i'm dead inside, too. It's like i said - i put on a happy face, try to be nice. But the outside and the inside don't always match._

_"Shiba Taicho makes it easy to keep the facade up - she is easygoing, and she trains with me. She's been trying to teach me bankai, but i know i won't ever achieve it._

_"i might have, one day, back when i was really a good person. But i'm not a good person anymore, and i don't like myself. The truth is, i hate the world; and i want it to hate me back. It would be so much easier to survive if everyone just hated everyone else. You would never have to trust anyone, you know? i would never have to trust anyone except my Tobiume, who will never betray me._

_"i don't know that i could hate Shiro-chan, though; or Karin-chan or Rangiku-san. i suppose i have to trust them and love them; and i do. i guess i couldn't hate Shiba Taicho, either. She's become someone i admire over the past ten years, even though i know it's probably stupid of me to admire anyone anymore. But that's who i am, i suppose. Stupid. Stupid, and naive. Stupid, naive, and empty._

_"Anyway, i'm rambling. i'm not even making sense anymore. i should get some sleep."_

_~The diary of Hinamori Momo_

* * *

The man Rukia identified as Kyon quickly led her through a series of random doors. It was clear to Rukia that the place had been deliberately designed like a labyrinth, allowing someone to walk around without any sense of organization or navigation. Every room was perfectly empty, with some walls having doors. It was clearly a maze, but her lead seemed to know his way around.

Once they were sufficiently through enough doors that he felt it was safe, he paused to talk to her. "Who are you and why are you here? How did you find us?"

Rukia was confused. "...I thought you knew who I was?"

He shook his head. "I know very little about shinigami culture, but I figured that must be a Kuchiki clan scarf, isn't it? Combined with what I think is an adjutant's badge, 'Lieutenant Kuchiki' was about as good a guess as anybody could give."

Well, he had a point there. "13th Division Lieutenant, Kuchiki Rukia. We came to rescue a kidnapped comrade. I was looking for her when I overheard your conversation. If I understand correctly, your name is Kyon?"

He chuckled. "Actually, my name is Kiyonimus Kalamonius Tuvadiyos Tumetros Ruantaminium Kandros, but yes, people just call me Kyon." He reverted to an urgent, pressing tone. "You have to get us out of here," he said. "Hurry - we don't have a lot of time until Q's boss figures out what's going on, and getting us out of here is going to be far from easy."

Rukia put her questions on hold and replied confidently. "Lead the way."

-:-

Rantao Kiku rushed from the computer, not caring about the fact that she bumped past the Banzo princess.

"Where are you going?" Ichihime called as she chased after her.

"To my office!" Kiku said. "I need to get my katana!"

Oh for fuck's sake, Ichihime thought. "You mean you don't carry it on you?"

"Not in the lab," Kiku yelled over her shoulder as she flashed down the hallway.

Hmm, Ichihime thought. For a lab rat, she's got good shunpo.

Ichihime's own flash steps were broken when Rantao clumsily ran out of her office and crashed right into her, knocking each of them to the floor.

"Oh, dear heavens, I'm so sorry!" Rantao pleaded, scrambling upright and offering the other lieutenant her hand to help her up. Ugh, I am not having a good day.

Ichihime graciously took the older woman's hand and let her help her get back on her feet. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know yet, but I will in a moment," Rantao offered, relieved that the noblewoman didn't berate her clumsiness.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ichhime asked, irritated.

Rantao withdrew her katana. _"Seek and ye shall find, Occulus Omnispectivus,"_ she commanded, and Ichihime covered her eyes as the pulsing shockwave blew light in all directions.

-:-

They seemed to reach the door to their final destination, as Kyon gestured to Rukia to stop. "Bear with us here, okay?"

Despite the odd request, Rukia nodded.

"Come in very, very quietly. Don't move too much. Don't talk unless I indicate it's okay."

Rukia was confused, but nodded in agreement.

He slowly opened the door and walked in to what appeared to be a library, and motioned for her to follow in after him. Rukia could not believe the room - it was wall-to-wall covered with books, with the exception of a door in the back on the right. There was a small bed in the corner of the room with a minifridge next to it, and a simple chair underneath a bright pole lamp. The position of the lamp made it clear that the chair was regularly used for reading. It was clear that someone lived here, but the room was empty at the moment.

Kyon shut the door behind her and stood quietly. Rukia was both confused and a bit nervous, but stood behind him patiently. A few moments passed until Rukia heard the sound of a flushing toilet, then the rushing water of a sink. A moment afterwards, a petite woman only a bit taller than Rukia emerged, with a similar frame and figure in a standard-issue shinigami uniform. She had silverish hair with a faint lavender tinge and glasses, but otherwise looked very young; and her face was empty and robotic. She didn't seem surprised to have company.

"Are you feeling okay?" Kyon asked.

"Yes," the woman replied. The tone was completely flat and devoid of emotion whatsoever. But what Rukia noticed even more was that it sounded oddly like her own voice for some unknown reason.

"Can I tell this woman where we are?"

"Yes."

"Can I tell this woman who I am?"

"Yes."

"Can I tell this woman about us?"

"Yes."

Kyon turned to Rukia and talked to her in a very staged and informational fashion. It was clear to Rukia that this was intentional for the sake of the other woman. "This is her private quarters. I am Kyon, her caretaker. It may sound a bit difficult to believe, but we are in love."

Rukia nodded very slowly, careful not to talk nor startle the woman. Something told her that there was something deeply unusual about her, and that Rukia was being offered a chance to see an inner sanctum that few ever broached.

"Does this woman look familiar to you at all?"

The woman paused for three whole minutes. Rukia tried very hard not to fidget nervously, but without much success. "Yes."

Rukia wondered how or why. Was it again the telltale Kuchiki scarf and Gotei 13 badge, or perhaps something else? She didn't know and suppressed the urge to ask.

"Can I tell you her name?"

"Yes."

"Her name is Kuchiki Rukia. Have you ever met her before?"

"No."

"Can I tell you her rank?"

"Yes."

"She is the vice captain of the 13th division. Do you want to know more about the Gotei 13 right now?"

"No."

"Do you want to hear more about it later?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Kyon exhaled, seemingly relieved. "Are you uncomfortable?"

"Yes."

Kyon's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Is there something I can do to help?"

"...Yes."

"Would you like me to ask Ms. Kuchiki to leave?"

"No."

"Would you like me to ask Ms. Kuchiki to step back?"

"No."

Kyon had a baffled look on his face. He wasn't expecting that. He ran through possibilities in his head of questions to ask.

"Is there something about Ms. Kuchiki that bothers you?"

"Yes."

"Is there something you want me to ask her to do?"

"Yes."

"Do you want her to put down the sword?"

The woman waited for twenty seconds. "No."

"Do you want her to sit down?"

"No."

"Do you want me to ask her questions?"

"No."

Kyon put his hand through his hair. This was very frustrating. As long as she was uncomfortable, there was no way he was going to be able to get her to go anywhere. "Do you want a hug?"

The woman blinked once and then said, "No." Rukia was suddenly alarmed by the realization that she hadn't blinked at all this entire time. It was profoundly creepy.

That surprised him a bit. He tried to make sense of it. "Do you want a... hug from Ms. Kuchiki?"

The woman blinked once again and then said, "No."

Kyon shook his head in confusion. "Do you want Ms. Kuchiki to come over to you?"

"Yes."

Kyon nodded and exhaled in relief, and then motioned to Rukia to stay still for a moment. "Do you want her to say something?"

"No."

"Do you want her to see something?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Kyon agreed, and tentatively led Rukia a few steps before stopping. "Do you want Ms. Kuchiki to come closer?"

"Yes."

Kyon led Rukia closer, until she was about three feet away from Toyuki. "Is this enough?"

"No."

Rukia was now within a foot of the android-like woman, and was completely baffled. She had no idea what was going on, and this one-way communication left her very confused. It was also burning a ton of time and she had no idea how to move things along.

Kyon had a profound realization. "Are you uncomfortable because of Ms. Kuchiki?"

"Yes."

"Are you more uncomfortable now?"

"No."

"Are you less uncomfortable now?"

"No."

"Is there something I can do to help you feel more comfortable?"

"No."

_That's_ interesting, Kyon thought. It's a different answer then before. "Is there something _you_ can do to help feel more comfortable?"

"Yes."

Kyon sighed, trying to figure out how he had arrived at the current crossroads. He looked at Rukia for a moment before returning his attention back to the other woman. "Can I talk to Ms. Kuchiki for a minute?"

"Yes."

Kyon turned to Rukia, who was clearly uncomfortable by the lack of personal space amongst the three of them. "I don't know what it is that's bothering her, but it involves you somehow. She wants to fix that." He then gestured for her to respond.

Rukia spoke very cautiously, eyeing both of them. "...I want her to feel comfortable. ...Whatever she can do to make herself comfortable."

Kyon sighed, unsure of what was going on himself, and turned back to the robotic woman. "Go ahead."

The woman nodded and cocked her head to the side, studying Rukia's features carefully. Rukia could see the cogs turning in her head. The woman raised her hands in an odd fashion, waving them slowly in front of Rukia's face and next to her arms. She then looked down at Rukia's toes carefully, and then sweeped her eyes up until she was looking at the ceiling. It was as though she was completely disconnected with reality.

Rukia wondered what was going on until Toyuki reached into her pocket and pulled out what looked like a Swiss Army knife. She fidgeted with it for a moment, pulling out a screwdriver attachment and then putting it back. She did the same for a corkscrew and then a saw attachment, eventually pushing everything back into the knife and removing a can opener bit. Studying the bit for more than three minutes - an eternity in Rukia's mind - she folded the can opener bit back in.

The whole process was so puzzling that it was practically hypnotic. Rukia had no idea what she was trying to do.

She unfolded the knife blade slowly from the little red knife until it clicked into place by the safety catch. She then tested that the safety properly held the blade in place, tested it again, and held it up to her eyes to study it for another two-and-a-half minutes. Rukia was initially alarmed but the woman merely reached for her sleeve and used the tiny knife to cut off a loose thread. The petite woman (girl?) brought the loose thread to her face, which she then studied intensely as though it was the most important thing she had ever seen.

Rukia was about to interrupt this seemingly absurd process, but her breath suddenly escaped her. She hadn't been paying attention. The android-faced woman had stabbed Rukia in the gut, right below her hips. Before Rukia could breathe, the woman opposite her twisted the blade and yanked it out; and Rukia fell to her knees.

-:-

Momo's first impression was one of remarkable beauty. It was a crisp starry night in the center of ancient stone monuments. It appeared as though it was like Stonehenge, in fact; the massive gray slabs of stone perched upon other slabs of gray slate rock, arranged in a wide circle of equal parts mystery and intrigue. A bright, full, ghostly pale moon of glory hung in the speckled night sky. Comets and meteor showers trickled past it as though the celestial heavens were trying to give off their best impressions. It was calm and quiet, with the occasional sound of wind rustling mildly through the primitive stone entrances.

She stood in the center of the circle of the stone gates. Through them, she could see a lush, green-grassed meadow expanding across the horizon, but at the moment she was on her own island of luscious green grass in the center of a lotus pond. The lotus lilypads floated in the still water, smooth and reflective as a mirror. The flowers themselves were beautiful in full bloom, allowing their lovely fragrance to drift on the soft, pleasant breeze. It was a zephyr that majestically managed to blow the hair out of Momo's face no matter which way she turned, but never disturbed her skin with an offending gust or snap. The world all around was serene; perfect; harmonious; enchanting. An oasis of perfect calm.

But Momo was not. She was on the island, worried and panicking. Tobiume stood beside her, visibly annoyed with her owner. "Stop it," she tsked.

"Why did you do that?" Momo asked. "Why did you take us in here? I can't believe you!"

"Shut up," Tobiume replied. "I don't want to hear it."

Momo was exasperated. "This is wrong."

"_No,_ Momo-san - _this -_" Tobiume retorted, gesturing to herself, "is wrong."

Momo could not deny it. She was definitely messed up. Tobiume was stained in filth and blackness; her normally white oversleeved kimono stained with coal dust and tar. Her pink sash was a dull, muddied beige; plain and unappealing. The giant dome bells that hung from Tobiume's extra long sleeves were dented and rusted, and instead of the pleasant tinkle they had once made, they sounded like mismatched, cacaphonous cowbells. Tobiume's long straight hair was frizzy and dissheveled, and affixed upon her face was a scowl that seemed as though it had been surgically implanted.

That is my soul, Momo thought as she looked her zanpakutou spirit over. My suffering, anguished soul.

"No, dear Momo-san," came a voice from the pond all around them in a disturbing, surround-sound ambiance of all-powerful sentience. "It is not from suffering or anguish. It is from hatred."

Startled, Momo reached for her sword, but Tobiume smacked her hand. "Tch," the spirit said. "As if we could do anything to Kyouka Suigetsu. In his own world, no less."

"But Tobiume-!" Momo protested.

"But nothing," her spirit snapped. "I came here to talk. So did you."

"I did not!"

"Yes you did," came the voice from the pond. "You came to see my face. To know that I am real."

"Where are you?" Momo called angrily. "Show yourself!"

"I am right here," said the disembodied voice. "All around you. I am that which you can see but cannot touch."

Tobiume snorted. "Look," she said, pointing to the water.

Hinamori brought her gaze down to the water, and slowly brought herself to the edge of the pond. Tobiume followed her, although not quite as cautiously. As Momo's line of vision came closer to the edge, the face of the great traitor, Aizen Sousuke, could be seen in the water's glassy surface, illuminated by the light of the moon. It was not the face of the captain she once knew. It was the face of his betrayal, his hair slicked back with a loose strand dancing in front of an arrogant smile. It was the real him. The Aizen who betrayed her.

Momo needed a cigarette. She needed a whole carton of cigarettes.

"You are still a very young girl," the vision spoke to her. "You must hate that, don't you?"

"No!" Momo protested.

"Yes," Tobiume snorted.

The vision smiled. "I am Kyouka Suigetsu. It is good to see you face to face again, Momo-san."

"You are _Aizen_!"

"You see what you want to see," it responded. "I am a reflection of your heart, dear Momo-san. You see Sousuke-san because that is what you wish to see. You wish to hate me, to despise me, to think of me as your enemy. That is what you _want_ to see - because that is not what you know to be the truth. Am I right, Tobiume-san?"

_"No!"_ Momo shouted.

"Yes," Tobiume admitted quietly.

Momo looked at her spirit in shock. "But Tobiume-san-!"

"But nothing," it replied again. "That is not who I see in the water."

Momo was nearly speechless. "Then... then what do you see?"

Tobiume paused as her brow creased in tense strain, the cynicism evident in the sneer on her face. "I see a creaky old man with a cane," she answered. "A pathetic miscreant of a man, rotten and downtrodden; with nothing but a long beard around his scowl and a knotted-wood cane that he uses to beat orphans he sees on the street. An arrogant, almost toothless drifter with rancid wrinkles and his hand extended as though he owns the world."

"And that is because you see me as a fountain of ill-attained wisdom," the Aizen-like vision replied. "But of one from which you wish to drink."

"Never!" Momo shouted.

"Perhaps," admitted Tobiume. "It depends on what I find inside."

"Then put aside your preconceived prejudices. Look hard, and tell me what you see."

Momo refused, but Tobiume would not. Her eyes focused on the still water under the light of the bright moon sky, and after a moment of squinting, an even more ferocious scowl began to form. "...I see nothing."

"Nothing?" replied the voice, amused. "Truly nothing?"

"I see Momo-san," Tobiume answered sarcastically, waving her arms about to indicate everything around her. "I see a bunch of dumb rocks, fake grass and a fishless koi pond full of pretty illusions. 'You cannot touch the flower in the looking glass,' Kyouka Suigetsu. You are nothing but smoke and mirrors. I know it better than any other."

Kyouka Suigetsu laughed. "Perhaps you have learned more about the world than I initially may have thought, Hinamori Momo."

"Shut up!" Momo yelled. "Don't patronize me! You _destroyed_ me! You crushed me! You ruined my life!"

"Did _I_?" Kyouka Suigetsu inquired. "Was it _I_ who deceived you?"

"Yes!" Momo answered.

"No," Tobiume admitted.

"No, _I_ did not deceive you," it answered. "It was Aizen who preyed upon your naivety, Momo-san. Aizen was his own man, and I am my own sword. I may have pierced you under Aizen's direction, but it was not the power of my illusions who deceived you. I speak the truth."

"You're lying," Momo stammered, trying to put up a front. She couldn't control her conflicted emotions. Tobiume was out of control; she couldn't hide anything. Her mind was a jumbled-up mess. Her heart was prey to the pulling of her wild and tangled confusion. Her turmoil was boiling her sanity.

"Your hatred is misguided," Kyouka Suigetsu argued smoothly. "Look into my water, Momo-san. Look deep inside. Tell me what you really see."

_"No!"_

_"Yes!"_ Tobiume insisted, Tobiume shoved Momo's face down with angry force until it was inches from the water. "_Do it,_ you stupid little girl! Are you going to run away from him forever? Are you going to be a baby your whole life? What is wrong with you? Grow up, _you damn pussy!"_

Momo spun around with surprising skill and slugged Tobiume in the face, her bare knuckles cracking loudly against the chin of the smaller girl. The blow sent Tobiume reeling, knocked over backwards onto her butt in the deep flowing carpet of grass on the other side of the island. "How dare you call me something so vulgar!"

Tobiume stared blankly at her before she started to laugh. "And _that's_ what you get angry about? _That's_ what upsets you? Let me tell you something, Peach of Mine. I gave you my power, didn't I? For _what?_ So that you could become a _crybaby_? So that you could become a little cowering ball of _snot_? You fall and fall, and fall again - and you never learn! I gave you the strength of my candlefire so that you could save others from damnation, and you can't even save yourself! You're a baby, Momo-san! Grow up! Face him like a woman with fire in your bones!"

Momo's stomach began to turn in knots. She was so confused; so unsure; so unable to understand - it was all one big horrible, awful mess. Was Tobiume right? Had she resisted reality? Was she the stupid naive girl who could never let go? The girl who dreamed big, who dreamed of an ideal world with pretty flowers and blue skies and a place where everyone smiled? Had she been unable to reconcile the harsh truths of life?

Could she let go of her belief that all men and women were good inside?

Knowing that if she ever let it go, she would have to judge herself before others?

Could she?

Could she bear the idea of accepting that maybe she had no goodness inside of her at all? That life had burned it out of her? That her carefree optimism had born a life full of nothing but disappointment?

Was that something Momo could do?

"You lost Izuru because you couldn't be a woman," Tobiume shot at her.

Momo's rage flared in an astounding display of power as she cut loose with a wordless _Hado #92: Death Cannon. _The focused shot of energy was a beam of electrical, fiery death, nearly two meters in diameter, that fried the very air itself. The thunderous force was so intense that it created a displaced sonic boom that quaked the stone temple around them. "He slept with a _whore!" _she screamed in tears.

"When all he wanted was to sleep with _you_!" Tobiume fired back, narrowly escaping certain defeat with a last-minute dive-and-roll. Reaching her feet, she rapidly spun a 360, hurling a snapshot of flame back at Momo from one of her dented, rusted bells. "It's your _own fault, _you_ baby!"_

Momo seethed as she slashed through the shot of fire with her katana. _"How dare you!"_ she screamed in tears, her entire body exploding blue fireballs in all directions as she unleashed the kido-infused rage pent up inside her. The stone gates were assaulted as explosions larger than an arrancar's cero demolished the unholy serenity of the Island in Stonehenge. "You shut up right now, Tobiume! How could you forgive him?"

"I don't, you stupid little girl!" Tobiume shouted back from behind a massive _Bakudo #81: Severing Void_ shield she erected in order to defend herself. "I don't forgive him for it - but I don't forgive you, either, you stupid crybaby!"

_"You shut up, Tobiume! Shut up right now!"_

But in a flicker of shunpo, Momo's sword spirit had her trapped at the water's edge. **_"No,"_** Tobiume sneered with intense determination - and with a forceful shove, Momo tumbled backwards into the water, falling in a motion so slow that she wondered if all of time had stopped.

Falling beneath the stars, under the light of the moon, as the comets sailed by - Momo was falling.

Falling.

Looking up at the one who pushed her over the edge.

Tobiume.

Her own soul.

Her dark and filthy, bitter, angry, _soul._

Just before Momo's ears crashed under the thin layer of the water's surface, Tobiume's scowl was replaced by a soft frown of sadness. Momo heard the words as though her soul was in the middle of being ripped back into her body, begging, pleading, hoping, asking: _"Bring me out clean, Momo-san."_

The sad sorrow, laced in some measure of hope deep down in Momo's soul, strengthened her resolve. However unwilling she had been at the moment her body splashed through the glassy pond's surface, Momo leaned as far back as she could until she was swimming downwards; down as fast and hard as she could muster. A twisted black fire was back in Momo's eyes.

_You want to see me face to face, Kyouka Suigetsu? _

_Well then here I come_.

Descending through the warm shimmering water, Momo took the plunge into the darkest, deepest chambers of Kyouka Suigetsu's fabricated world.

* * *

_**Reviews, please!** Next chapter: Decades of secrets finally revealed - what was it that happened to the precious Kuchiki Hisana? I bet you can't wait to find out!_


	20. Crashing into the Unknown

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note:** If you lack interest in symbolism, you might be tempted to believe that the beginning of this chapter forays into the bizarre for a little bit. In that case, just go with it. Also, this chapter makes reference to the events in "Save Me, Kuchiki."_

* * *

_"Eh, it's kinda silly to think that way. Take Sako-chan, for example. On the outside, she looks like a stuck-up, arrogant, snobbish stick in the mud. _

_"Well, uh, okay, maybe she really is those things, sure. BUT, on the inside she's much less like her dad and a lot more like her mum. She loves music and dance and a good thrill, and she's actually very sensitive, even if she never shows it. If only you had seen how much Sako-chan cried when Vojiro-san declined an arranged introduction, you would know. _

_"Anyway, all I'm saying is that people can surprise you. You never really know what you're bound to find inside, for better or even for the worse. _

_"Now you better not tell anyone what I told you, because if Sako-chan finds out, **holy shit** the sky is going to be raining fire for three days straight."_

_~Shihoin Zarina, to Hitsugaya Makahiro; around two hundred years from now_

* * *

Momo wasn't sure when she had lost consciousness, but when she awoke, she was somewhat alarmed. She was having an out-of-body experience; one where she could see her entire body rather than seeing from it.

As though she was looking at herself in the mirror.

Figures, she thought.

She was completely naked. Her chocolate brown strands hung loose; flowing in waves just past her shoulder blades. Her skin was bare; with only a soft, neat, velvety patch of cocoa-shaded hair covering her pubic bone. Her breasts, plain and simple and not particularly special, peered out at her; and Momo found herself suddenly ashamed of her nakedness.

Quickly, Momo watched - again, disembodied as though she was looking at herself in the mirror - as she brought one arm over her chest to conceal it, and cupped her other hand over her groin before crossing her legs. Looking around, she could see nothing else but herself; it was blackness above and below and beyond.

Where am I? Momo wondered.

"You are here," came the voice she had been hearing, although this time it was coming from her left - well, her body's left and her vision's right. Momo's body turned its head, and Momo's perspective shifted. She was now looking at herself standing about fifteen feet away from a peculiar being. The shift in perspective only made the out-of-body experience more surreal.

It was startlingly alien; a five-foot-tall biped being with a jutting, beak-shaped head that had no facial features. Its hands each had three thick fingers, and its feet bore extra joints that allowed it to stand effortlessly on the balls of its feet. It was hairless and completely white; a stark white, the color of marble. The being's chest was that of a lean-but-muscular man, as was his shoulders; and Momo was certain it was masculine. It was fairly obvious by virtue of the enormous, erect, fishhook-shaped penis that extended from its softball-sized testicles and curled back to point at its own navel.

"Why do you cover yourself?" the oddly erogenous being asked.

Momo stammered but no words came out. This was not exactly what she had expected. Not that she really understood what she was expecting, but whatever it was, it wasn't this.

"Are you ashamed of what you are? Are you incapable of being proud of _you_, as you are?"

"..N-n- ...No," Momo argued, her voice emanating from her separated body. Despite her protestations, her intimates remained concealed.

Momo watched as the being shifted in what could only be described as a full-body-chuckle. "You may speak no lies in this Inner Sanctum, Momo-san. Concealment, illusion, and misrepresentation are only allowed above. If you wish to remain a farce, go back to your serene haven under the stars."

She considered the alien's words, and with a hesitation, she studied her own self from a distance. Eventually she bared herself and straightened, eventually clenching her fists until she could, at the very least, present herself to _herself, _ignoring the alien for the moment. It took a few moments, but Momo forced it out of her mind. _This is just me,_ she thought. _I am who I am. My body is my body. It is what it is, and there is nothing wrong with it. I don't have to want to share it, but I should not be ashamed of it._

When she was able to turn her face and view back towards the alien, Momo's hesitation had instead hardened into firm resolve. She was somehow brimming with confidence, although she wondered if it was just bravado in the face of no other options. Either way, she didn't think about her nakedness anymore. "Who are you?"

"That is a silly question," the alien answered. "I am Kyouka Suigetsu."

How unsurprising, Momo thought sarcastically. Men and their phallic obsessions.

"What is wrong with my phallus?" Kyoukau Suigetsu asked innocently.

Momo was angered. "You can hear my thoughts!"

"Just as you can hear mine," Kyouka Suigetsu commented. "Do I look like I have a mouth with which to form words? There is no deceit or hiding or concealment here, Momo-san. There is nothing but the unashamed truth."

This is disturbing, Momo thought, not realizing that she could be heard.

Kyouka Suigetsu laughed. "Have you never seen a naked man before?"

"...You are not a man."

"You evade, Momo-san."

"...No," Momo answered sheepishly.

With an incredible lack of respect for decency, the alien grabbed its protrusion with two hands. It simply stood there, nonchalant as though this was no different than clasping one's hands behind one's back. "What do you see, Momo-san?"

"I see something sick," she retorted, feeling put off in front of such a tasteless gesture.

"That is not a truth - it is an opinion," Kyouka Suigetsu answered. "It is your greatest fault, Momo-san; that you intertwine your passionate emotions within your quest to divine the facts. You are ruled by your heart rather than your mind. Now, speak only the truth. What do you see?"

Momo hesitated. She didn't like the mindgames, but she needed to get somewhere. "...I see a... _creature_ from eyes outside my own head. One who is holding himself with three-fingered hands."

"Now you speak the truth," it answered, and let go of himself. "Now it is my turn. But you must initiate. You must take ownership of the truth."

"You expect me to-!"

"-I expect you to ask me what I see," it clarified smoothly, although Momo still had a bitter taste in her mouth from the overture of innuendo.

She hesitated. Is this what I'm here for? Is this why I came?

"It is," Kyouka Suigetsu answered, and Momo cursed her inability to hide her thoughts.

"...What- what do you see?"

"I shall tell you what I see, Hinamori Momo of the Korean Sun. I see a young teenager, only ninety years old. Impressionable. Vulnerable. Idealistic, but deeply troubled. She is too old to be a charming child, but not yet old enough to be a beautiful woman. She has mastered the demon arts because of a profound sense of control over her spirituality, because she is intelligent and determined. She is young, but she holds great potential. It is her emotional instability that restrains her; her feelings that cannot be separated from her mission. I see a girl scarred, scared, and alone; one who has difficulty allowing anyone to truly see her soul - even herself.

"I see someone who still believes that she is naive, even though she usually is not. I see someone who berates herself for her stupidity, despite the fact that she is certainly a brilliant prodigy when measured against the average shinigami of her age. I see someone who is lost yet found, who is cheerful yet depressed, who dallies in despair while gambling with hope.

"I see a teenage girl who has had a hard life she wishes she did not have. A girl who longs and wishes and desires a different course of history - one where her captain had never betrayed her. One where her captain cherished and loved her like a porcelain doll, who would protect and serve her and-"

_Don't say it,_ Momo winced. _No, please; please don't say it..._

"-_yes_, Hinamori Momo of the Korean Sun, _yes_, I see a little girl who admired her captain and wished he had fallen in love with her; who would undress her, who would make love to her, who would ravish her with his smiles and his kisses and his flesh; and who would comfort this young girl and shield her from all pain and suffering. I see a girl who wished for all this and more; who knew even before she was betrayed that it was nothing but a fantasy; who already knew that those deepest desires would never be satiated by him or anyone else."

Momo's shame burned in her face, burned in her chest, and burned in her soul. It was a painful, agonizing grip; a choking, scorching moment of truth. It was a shame she would never be able to deny. She had fallen for that false Aizen, that phony, fake Aizen; and she _hated_ him. _Hated_ what he did to her. She _loathed _him, all the time unable to separate the truth of her angry scorn from the falsehood of his gentle-faced deceit. She was still the dumb little girl letting her heart be swayed by the deception of her dreams, and to hear someone tell her - especially the zanpakutou of Aizen himself - lodged her shame tight inside her throat, unable to escape its harrowing weight.

"But, Hinamori Momo of the Rising Korean Sun, I see a girl who tried to make peace with that," Kyouka Suigetsu continued, sounding almost encouraging. "A not-quite-young-woman who almost found love; who inspired a man to throw away his past and find the future. A girl who wanted to grow up, but never wanted to risk losing the idealism of childhood. A girl stuck in between, with no place to go. Who tried to latch on to her friends but could not ascend with them, for they were already too mature to make the same journey."

_Izuru,_ Momo's heart wailed. _Rukia-san, Rangiku-san._ Her very soul was leaking tears. Oh Izuru, what happened? Why did it have to end this way - why couldn't I -

"Because you are who you are," Kyouka Suigetsu answered indifferently. "The wrongs of the world - and the wrongs which I was forced to commit under my former master's direction - shaped you, Hinamori Momo of the Rising Korean Sun. You have been influenced by your suffering. It is natural to succumb to the inclinations in which you have been ingrained."

Momo breathed in and out, watching herself from a distance; seeing the rise and fall of her breasts in the blackness. She didn't know what to think anymore.

"I will tell you what else I see," the alien continued, his masculinity bobbing up and down in an odd dance of rhythm to his words all by itself. "I see a girl who denies herself the truth, who denies her desire, who denies that the ways of womanhood are upon her. A girl who will grow to be a woman of ravishing beauty, who will be desired and sought after."

"You're a pervert," Momo retorted angrily, seeing where this conversation was going.

Kyouka Suigetsu seized his shaft again, this time straightening it out with one hand so that he could pump it with the other. "I am not," it replied simply. Momo had no idea how it could say that with a straight face. Well, if it had a face. "I am arrogant, self-absorbed, overconfident, and conceited; yes. Vain, egotistical, pompous, self-centered, and supercilious? Most certainly. Magniloquent? Undoubtedly the most that any being could ever be, Hinamori Momo of the Rising Korean Sun. But should I be embarrassed to compliment an attractive naked female in front of me, when my words are incapable of being anything other than the truth?"

Momo took several steps back and raised her hand in preparation to fire the most intense fusion of lethal hado spells she could muster. Even Kyouka Suigetsu could not dismiss the danger, for he knew that Momo was certainly capable of killing him. "You will _not_ touch me!"

"You speak the truth, Momo-san. I will not, so you have nothing to fear."

"And I won't touch _you_, either," she clarified darkly.

Kyouka Suigetsu laughed as he ceased his indecency. "You speak the truth again, Hinamori Momo of the Shining Korean Sun - but this time, it is a truth of your own making. Congratulations, young woman, you have learned the first axiom: that you possess the power to create truth.

"In order to create truth, Momo-san, you must be able to distill it from the fiction. That is my power, the ability to distill truth to the point where only you can see it. Let me help you create the truths of this world. Let me give you the power of the gods to create truth. Let me make you a god, Hinamori Momo of the Shining Korean Sun, so that you can shape your destiny - and the world's destiny - according to the truths that you will define. Become a god, Momo-san, so that you will be greater than all who came before you."

Momo was tense but lowered her hands. Something instinctively told her that Kyouka Suigetsu wouldn't molest her. "You say that we can only tell the truth here, which should mean that you cannot lie," Momo questioned, inspired by Kyouka Suigetsu's own oddly spoken confession.

"You speak the truth, as do I."

_"Prove it."_

"Ask me any question you so desire, Hinamori Momo of the Shining Korean Sun. Ask me anything that you think I would not wish to answer."

Momo's guard was on high alert, but she seized the opportunity. There was no telling she would ever get it again. "Tell me what Aizen desired, and what he feared."

Kyouka Suigetsu let forth a hearty, deep-throated laugh. "Aizen was a man of complex truths, Momo-san. Even so, you might not even understand the true nature of your question."

"Show me!" Momo insisted.

"I will show you what he desired and what he feared, but you will not understand it."

"I don't care - _show me!_"

"Very well," and the alien raised his hands. "On the left is that which he desired, and on the right is that which he feared."

Momo was remarkably surprised by what she saw - on _both_ sides of the alien in front of her. On each side was an image of a naked woman. The one on his left was tall and stunningly beautiful, with long chestnut hair and a demure smile. The woman on the right was also amazingly beautiful; of average height with black hair and a charming, gentle smile with soft and inviting features.

"...That's it?" Momo asked. "But - but that makes no sense."

"I spoke the truth," Kyouka Suigetsu replied simply. "I told you that you would not understand."

"You're lying," Momo accused him.

"I am not," Kyouka Suigetsu answered. "Even if I could, you are in no position to accuse me of such anyway."

"But what about the Hougyouku, or the King's Key, or..."

"Those were not his desires," Kyouka Suigetsu answered pointedly. "They were his _ambitions_. There is a difference, Momo-san - a profound one."

Momo mentally took a step back. That was indeed a sound point of argument. A profound one, indeed. Desires. Ambitions. Fears? Was fear the real thing she was trying to understand?

She took a look at the images of the two women on each side of Kyouka Suigetsu. _Aizen - you are a mystery. _

It was then that Momo gasped as she studied the two women carefully. Slowly, it dawned upon her that she knew who they both were; even without their uniforms and their normal hairstyles. On the right - the woman that Aizen feared - was undoubtedly the late former 13th division 3rd seat, the esteemed and eminent Shiba Miyako-dono.

And the object of Aizen's desire was none other than the current 12th division vice captain, Rantao Kiku.

-:-

"Urahara Kisuke, Shihoin Yoruichi," the familiar face greeted them when they finally reached the entrance gate to Las Noches.

"Gantenbainne Mosqueda," Urahara replied cordially, despite the lack of honorifics being shared all around. "We request a meeting with the King of Hueco Mundo."

"Right this w-" Mosqueda began, but he was immediately interrupted by another familiar face.

"Ne, Uwahawa-san-san," a litte voice chirped as it emerged from behind his legs to reveal Nel Tu. "Why didn't you bwing Itsygo to play with me?"

Urahara laughed nervously. "Well, uh..."

"You said you would next time you came!"

"Yes, but you see..."

"No fair!" Nel Tu stomped her foot.

"But-"

"Now you have to play eternal tag with me to make it up, then!"

"Well, I thought-"

"TAG!" she said, smacking Urahara on his ass and knocking him over as she echoed out of the way - in sonido that was disturbingly fast for a small child.

Urahara looked up from the floor to see a snickering Gantenbainne. "Oi, Yoruichi-san...?"

Yoruichi sighed as she shook her head. "Yeah, I'm on it," she assured him as she disappeared in a flicker.

Kisuke got to his feet and brushed himself off. "Well, then, as you were saying," he said clumsily.

"Right this way," Gantenbainne said again, this time a satisfied smirk of mockery on his face.

-:-

_"Sereitei, Division 1 compound - it's moving! Follow me!"_ Rantao shouted as she flashed out of sight.

Ichihime followed the trail of reiatsu until she caught up with her. "How the hell do you know where we're going? The division 1 compound is massive! That's like finding a needle in a haystack!"

_Exactly,_ Rantao smiled silently between steps.

-:-

"_Ms. Kuchiki!_" Kyon shouted. "Are you alright?"

Rukia was panting on the floor. She put her hand to her lower abdomen and could feel the incision in her shihakusho and her undergarments. Pulling her fingers up to her field of vision, they were wet - but not with blood. It was clearly some bodily fluid, but it was thick and clear and tingled on her fingers.

"What were you doing? !" Kyon asked in disbelief.

The woman said nothing. Instead, she cleaned and folded up her pocketknife and then put it back in her shihakusho.

"Ms. Kuchiki - are you okay?" Kyon fretted.

Slowly, Rukia stood up, hand covering the small cut in her clothing that was relatively indecent. The woman turned away from her and walked into the bathroom, coming out quietly and without emotion while handing Rukia a pair of hakama. In a daze, stunned and confused, Rukia took the garment and headed into the bathroom. She removed the short black pants she normally wore and slipped the hakama on underneath her dress-like shihakusho. Studying her hands for a minute, she was completely stupefied. It was like she was in another dimension; like Alice in Wonderland trying to figure out if she was still there or back on Earth.

She washed her hands and left the bathroom door. The gray-haired woman turned to face her; Kyon was still in complete shock. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I... I think so," Rukia said. "I'm not bleeding. I'm not in any pain, either."

Kyon seemed unable to think straight. "I'm sorry, I have no idea why she did that."

Rukia looked into the woman's eyes, which caught her attention. At first, she thought that they were emotionless; robotic and alien and devoid of expression. But now she could see that was not the case. They were not stoic at all - they were _restrained_. Restrained and repressed. Rukia could see a subtle twitch in the girl's eyelashes, almost an indication that she wanted to say something. It was then that an idea came to Rukia. One that could be either incredibly brilliant or incredibly dumb. She wasn't quite sure.

"Wait... you're a shinigami, right?"

"Yes," she answered, a subtle change in the pitch of her voice that Rukia wouldn't have noticed earlier.

"State your name and rank!" Rukia ordered politely but firmly. Kyon gave Rukia a look like frogs had just popped out of her eyeballs.

"4th Division 20th Seat, Naga Toyuki."

Kyon was completely shocked. She _spoke!_ Kyon had never heard her say anything more than 'yes' or 'no'. _He didn't even know her name! SHE SAID HER NAME! _Three years, and he finally knew what her name was! He had thought she would never answer anything but a yes or no question - _but she said her name! _Kyon was incapable of comprehending what was happening. The only one who ever knew her name was Smith, and most people didn't even believe it was possible.

Rukia couldn't believe she was about to do this, but she did anyway. "Naga-san, I order you to provide a full oral report of why you just stabbed a superior officer."

"_Hai,_ Fukutaicho. Subject approached my chambers with unusual reiatsu signature and required immediate diagnosis. Reiatsu scan indicated base reiatsu intensity at 12560.97811 amplicores, with density at 97.273947101 billion reishi per square centimeter. This exceeds normal margins by 1117.1%, implying zanpakutou achievements at mythological proportions. Subject is most certainly a high-level bankai user who likely excels in kido and shunpo and has a spiritual pressure exceeding several standard deviations of captain-class shinigami. Reishi signature is 47 spectrals, indicating subject likely wields an ice/snow zanpakutou. Spirit resonance levels suggest that despite youthful appearance, subject is nearly two hundred years old and has reached full adult maturity.

"However, reiatsu pulsation was off by 1.8111116 kilocores. Chance of this occurring in an individual with this high spiritual pressure approximately 1 in 37.6 trillion. Further reiatsu scans indicated introduction of foreign reishi, concentrated in pelvic region. Foreign reishi is semi-abnormal, consisting mainly of a shinigami reishi signature at -23 spectrals and 9214.67830 amplicores, indicating it originates from an exceedingly powerful bankai user who likely wields a reiatsu-manipulation zanpakutou. Abnormalities include hollow reishi and human reishi. Human reishi is healthy and unusually strong at an approximated 5.1 projected amplicores; hollow reishi exhibits spectral ratio well into the Menos classes but I do not have enough data to compute precise numbers. Assumed diagnosis of foreign reishi is that it was likely introduced via vaginal intercourse approximately 4 days, 7 hours, and 23 minutes ago. Reishi blend and halflife indicates that all three types of foreign reishi were injected at the same time; I cannot speculate as to how that is possible.

"Despite the presence of foreign reishi, which is present in tolerable quantities, further analysis established that the pulsation differential was due to the subject's own spirit matter. This is a highly unusual circumstance that most often occurs during keliovaxilis of reishi, a potentially lethal condition. A rare cause of this condition is Izumi syndrome, a hereditary genetic disorder with multiple side effects that is typically hard to diagnose due to the lack of differentiated symptoms. The most common side effects are significantly stunted growth and severe infertility, with only roughly 1 in 3 million chance of conception. In women with low to medium reiatsu, Izumi syndrome can eventually cause irreversible sickness and death, with symptoms typically manifesting in with the onset of long-term coughing and fatigue, followed by fever, partial pulmonary failure, and then finally brain death. However, death by Izumi syndrome in captain-class shinigami is generally considered statistically impossible.

"Based on verbal permission provided to accept subject as patient, a physical analysis using my zanpakutou was performed. As expected, patient possesses reishi keliovaxilis during ritosis, resulting in sterile reproductive material during reitosis. Patient also possessed mucosal vaginal viscosity that deviated 0.0000217% in the uterus from norm and 0.00000221% in the left opening of the felopian tube. The right felopian tube appears to be accessible as per normal physiology, but lymph node acidity was off by 0.002000012 PH. Further physical examination indicates that patient conceived, despite the medically impossible odds - but there was no stretching of the cervix, a clear sign that birth did not take place. Diagnosis is likely a miscarriage. Further probing discovered blended tissue with reishi patterns that were distinctly human and shinigami; in similar ratios to the initial scan but without the hollow reishi patterns. This tissue is likely reintegrated placenta material that was reabsorbed into the uterine wall, where it displayed significant signs of naturally-induced stress; likely due to constant sexual intercourse.

"Due to the inherent risk of the Izumi syndrome, the symptoms and observations matching the diagnosis within a 0.000000000000032% margin of error, and all evidence indicating the patient strongly desires to conceive, I performed microsurgery. This was performed by injecting a targeted microvirus to rewire the patient's DNA. The virus was classified as a Class 2 RNA transcribing carrier, with amino acid composition targeted to slice out said hereditary flaw, the Izumi gene, and replace with neutral genomes. The desired outcome was so that genomes governing reishi keliovaxilis would no longer be present, thus ceasing keliovaxillation.

"Observed rate of infection was roughly 36.4 billion replications per second, allowing enough time to properly penetrate 99.96572% of the cell walls in the uterus. Virus tested to have 0.0% chance of mutation; virus death is certain once no more keliovaxillated cells are available for rewiring. Viral cells will also be purged naturally by the liver, dismissing the risk of unintended bloodstream infection. Estimated time of complete virus extermination approximated at 2.3 seconds from now. Mild anesthesia and antibiotic was also administered, drowsiness should dissipate within the next 1.4 seconds.

"The rejected RNA containing the corrupted metastasized reishi was extracted along with the overly acidic lymph and excessively viscous mucus. Patient will likely become fertile within 18 months, with 3.429681% chance of becoming fertile within the next ovulation and increasing over time. Chance of patient recovery without complications: 99.99999999999%. Chance of syndrome recurring: 0.000000000002%. Only known complication is topical infection of the surgical incision, which can be treated with standard antibiotic ointment. Patient should keep incision clean and should bathe as per normal routine. Recommendation not to shave between the navel and the mons pubis for at least seven days, in order to reduce the risk of topical infection.

"Mission complete. Request performance review be sent to Unohana Taicho. Request to rejoin the Gotei 13. Request further instruction. Awaiting next order, Kuchiki Fukutaicho-dono. _Hai._"

And, to astonish Rukia's red-faced, gaping-open-mouth, beads-of-embarrassed-sweat-forming-on-forehead, oh-my-god-_what-the-fucking-hell-just-happened_ expression even further, Toyuki _saluted._

That's right. She _saluted._

Kyon's jaw was still on the floor. His gaping mouth was so wide he could have swallowed a basketball.

"Uh," Rukia stammered, "that was... um... remarkably... _personal_."

Holy flying fruitcakes! Rukia thought. In fifteen minutes, this girl figured out that I have zotokai, an equally infertile dead sister, a vaizard husband, a failed pregnancy, and sex a gazillion times a month. _Aaawwwkkkwwwaaaarrrddd._

Well, at least now I have an excuse for being so short.

Still - _aawwkkwwaarrdd._

"Er, ah, I'm sorry if she, uh, offended you," Kyon stuttered. "I, uh, I've _never_ heard her talk so much before."

Rukia shook her head, chuckling to herself. She had experienced some pretty bizarre things in life, but this one was _so_ over-the-top that she couldn't help but laugh. In any case, she put aside the bizarre, incredulous discomfort of the whole affair because they had already burned way too much time. "Naga-san, I can't make any promises, but if you want to rejoin the Gotei 13, we have to get out of here first. I've come to rescue you and another lieutenant that was taken hostage. You're a prisoner here and we can't let you stay. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Fukutaicho."

"Can you use shunpo?"

"No, Fukutaicho."

"Hado? Bakudo?"

"No, Fukutaicho."

"And that knife you were carrying - I'm going to guess that it's your zanpakutou, Genesis?"

"Yes, Fukutaicho."

"Is that its shikai form?"

"Yes, Fukutaicho."

"Can you release it to asauchi form?"

"Yes, Fukutaicho."

"Do so," Rukia ordered politely.

"_Hai_, Fukitaicho." Pulling her zanpakutou from her pocket, it came out as a simple bamboo-handled tanto with no crossguard. The only distinguishing characteristic was that the blade was made out of silver.

"Do you consider yourself able to fight with it?"

"...No, Fukutaicho."

"So all you know is medical kido?"

"Yes, Fukutaicho."

"Okay," Rukia nodded, trying not to show her disbelief at the entire situation. She was thinking about how she was going to do this. "You may carry Genesis in whichever form you prefer. You have three minutes to gather your belongings, and then we need to go. We need to hurry. Can you be ready by then?"

"Yes, Fukutaicho."

Rukia nodded. _"Dismissed."_

Toyuki immediately turned and headed into the bathroom. Rukia looked to Kyon, whose mouth was still wide open in shock. "...Are you okay?"

"I... I... I..."

Rukia shrugged with a gentle smile as she put her hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "Don't even begin to second guess a thing. It's clear she's not your average person. I didn't think I had a snowball's chance in hell that I could get her to explain herself. Now take a deep breath and get a hold of yourself, because we need to get out of here, _fast_. Is there anything you need in here?"

Kyon shook his head, still stunned. "...No; I- I don't think so."

Toyuki returned with a small satchel. She picked up a book from the chair and slipped it into the bag, and then she took two others from one of the shelves - large, heavy brown books that looked positively ancient - before standing in front of Rukia.

Rukia thought for a moment. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, Fukutaicho."

"Anything else you want to say before we leave?"

The girl (woman?) hesitated. Rather than let her wait, Rukia forced it out of her with a gentle order. "Speak, Soldier."

Toyuki's mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. Eventually, she stated, "I won't leave without Kyon-kun."

Rukia glanced over to Kyon with a smile, and she could see him melt at the statement. "Don't worry, Naga-san. I had no intention of leaving him behind. He's coming with us."

Toyuki nodded. There was no outward gesture to indicate so, but Rukia could tell by looking at her eyes that she was relieved.

"Anything else?"

"No, Fukutaicho."

"Alright, let's go!"

_"Not so fast!"_ came a voice from the doorway, and Rukia turned to face the man she recognized earlier as Q. His broken nose had been miraculously repaired, and he had a different katana with him. This one had a dark purple blade. "You're not making it out of here alive!"

* * *

_Okay, so seriously now, this chapter is chock full of stuff. **Reviews, please!** Meaty ones if you can; with what you liked and didn't like. Did you expect the various events in this chapter? Did you not expect them? This chapter is rife with symbolism and subtle references in nearly every passage, I wonder how much of it you caught. Think about it and tell me!  
**Next chapter:** Nanao vs. Blackhawks. You don't want to miss it for the world._


	21. The First Skirmish

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note:** Some reviewers were concerned about the listing as being switched from Nanao to Momo. Don't worry, Nanao will play a very important piece in the overall story. I just wanted to vary it up in case there were any Momo-centric readers out there who may have otherwise overlooked this story. Also, sorry it took a while to get this out - I've been a bit sick lately, but I'm getting better now. :)_

* * *

_"Come over here so I can kick your ass good and proper."  
~Tabaki Tamani,  
great-great-great-granddaughter of legendary martial artist Arisawa Tatsuki_

* * *

_"Not so fast!" _came a voice from the doorway. "You're not making it out of here alive!"

Kyon was scared out of his pants, but the Kuchiki vice captain seemed unfazed as she spat back a deadpan, grim retort. "Considering that all three of us are already dead, that's not much of a threat."

As though time and space did not exist, Kyon witnessed her vanish and reappear with a snap-kick straight into Q's chest, knocking him down onto the floor. Q was deft, though, and rolled back out of the way. It was then that Kyon noticed a horde of other agents came through the door into the antechamber before Toyuki's library cell. One of them laughed and sauntered forward. He was tall and wiry with bright red hair and a goatee, eyes hidden behind their trademark sunglasses. Kyon clutched his beloved Toyuki's arm and tried to keep her behind him as much as possible, out of the fray. Kyon was no hero, and so that was all he could do other than watch.

"Is this who I think it is?" the agent laughed mockingly. "You have to be kidding me!" he shouted excitedly. "Allow me to introduce myself, shinigami. My name is Agent Wagner."

"13th Division Vice Captain, Head Lieutenant Kuchiki Rukia," the miniscule-yet-fiercely-frightening woman in front of Kyon answered. The stern coldness in her voice could have turned Kyon's blood to ice.

"Ha ha ha! I was right!" Wagner laughed, peering down at the woman opposite him. He must have been at least six and a half feet tall. "Would you look at that? The King of Clubs made her way in here!" Wagner exclaimed to his associates. He then returned his attention back to her with an incredulous cackle. "But _you're_ the fearsome vice captain, Kuchiki Rukia? _You?_ This little pipsqueak? You mean I came all this way just to crush a pitiful little girl?"

Kyon was fearing the worst, but the shinigami's icy expression didn't change. All Kyon could see was her merely draw her sword -

- _and then flick her challenger's blood off of it._

Rukia pointed Laevateinn at the remaining bystanders. "Anyone else care to underestimate me?" she asked coldly, and Wagner's head slid right off his shoulders.

-:-

Kyon shielded Toyuki as the melee ensued. It was a stunning sight to watch. Kuchiki was faster than a tornado, and watching her fight with a sword was like watching a swan dance at three hundred miles per hour. She twirled and swirled, her gown-sewn shihakusho flaring in perfect synchronization with a wicked fast slash of metal swinging in wide arcs, igniting sparks and spurting blood depending on where it made contact. Her small size let her dash and dart in between opponents, duck under blows, and generally make a mockery of what Kyon knew to be an elite team of agents. She cut them through the ankles, severed hands, and glided with fluid, liquid motion between them like they were amateurs.

"Q!" Kyon called. "Ms. Kuchiki! Q is getting away!"

The metallic clang of blades echoed thunderously in the room as the tiny vice captain blocked a strike aimed at her head, and then backflipped a kick straight up into the jaw of another. The timing was amazingly precise - a blade sailed right under her where her feet had just been, and she landed feet-on-the-wall and propelled herself with massive arc-swing that cut another agent in two by the waist. It was overly sanguinary but certainly effective.

"Forget about him!" Rukia shouted back. "We're getting out of here!"

It was then, against the backdrop of blood, guts and gore, that the kido came out. Kyon was no expert in the shinigami arts - he knew a little bit secondhand from the background material he had been given, but never saw kido in action before. Kuchiki was firing off kido spells from her index finger like a machine gun, wrapping injured and uninjured agents in ropes, slamming them into walls with a triangular projectile of some sort, and freezing them in place with six huge bars of light around the waist. It took no longer than two minutes until nearly all of the twenty or so agents had been either slaughtered or subdued.

"_Bakudo #39: Arc Shield,_" Rukia cast above their heads. "_Hado #66: Twin Lotus of Blue Fire Crashing Down_," she followed, blowing open a hole in the ceiling to expose the night air. Kyon flinched as huge chunks of ceiling fell in, bouncing off of the kido shield she had cast to protect them. If any of the agents were still alive, they wouldn't be as lucky.

Once the dust had settled, Rukia cast another series of spells. "_Hado #33: Blue Fire Crash Down_," she said, and let a stream of them sail off into the night sky.

"What was that for?" Kyon asked.

"Signal for backup," she explained. "Now hurry! Get us out of here!"

-:-

Nanao saw the stream of blue fire emanating over the west edge. "C'mon, Omaeda, let's go!"

Omaeda, who was fighting hand-to-hand with the only agent that had managed to break into their defensive perimeter, took a punch into his flabby gut. He then crunched his stomach to trap the agent's hand in his rolls of fat, and then decked the operative in the head. "Heh, the old stomach glomp gets 'em every time!"

"Ugh, you're disgusting," Nanao sneered. "And greasy - stay over there, I'm going."

"Wait! Sh-Sh-Shosho!"

-:-

Smith picked up the phone. "Harrison, what the fuck is going on?"

"It's the Ace of Diamonds, sir!" the other end shouted frantically over bullet fire and the sounds of collapsing buildings. "She's facing us head-on!"

"Blow her out of the fucking sky, goddamnit!"

"She's got some sort of shield up that's blocking all of our attacks, sir! We can't get in close range, either!"

"Why not?"

"She blows us up once she sees us, sir!"

"What the fuck? How does she do that?"

"Apparently, she snaps her fingers, sir!"

"She snaps her fingers?"

"Yes, sir!"

Smith swore. "Send out the Blackhawks. Spare no firepower. I want to roast that goddamn bitch and serve her for Thanksgiving dinner, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir!"

-:-

Omaeda began to hear rumbling. "W-w-what's that?" he asked, cowering in a corner and throwing up his lunch. The splattered gore was a bit too much for him. Blowing up hollows with kido causes them to disintegrate. Detonating humans is a lot more messy.

"Are you freakishly uneducated, or just an idiot? They're sending out helicopters," Nanao spat, launching a _Hado #59: Purple Shockwave_ at an oncoming pack of agents, slicing them in half.

The big black choppers emerged from over the horizon. Nanao thought it was completely stupid of them: anything that flies can easily be made to fall. For the comic value, she decided to give them an illusion of chance. When the six copters each fired off a pair of Apache A171 missiles at her, Nanao gave them a taste of their own medicine. "_Bakudo #55: Star Canopy_," she cast, the giant rubber-like ectoplasms interrupting the various flight paths.

-:-

Smith yanked the phone off the hook in supreme irritation. "What now?"

"We lost the Blackhawks, sir," came the other end.

"You _WHAT! ?_ I only authorized them twenty minutes ago!"

"The Ace of Diamonds shot them down, sir!"

"With _what_?"

"With their own missiles, sir!"

"Goddamnit, Harrison, what the hell are you saying?"

"She erected some kind of slingshot that caught the missiles and flung them back at the Blackhawks, sir!"

"You're telling me that she just spat up some big-ass slingshot and flung our missiles right back at us? Just like that?"

"Yes, sir! Just like that, sir!"

Smith swore loudly. "Are you completely incompetent, or just mostly?"

"Sir, I can't hear you, the explosions are too loud, sir!"

Yeah, right, I bet, Smith thought. Then a thought came to him. "Is she advancing?"

"...Not really, sir! She's mainly holding ground, sir!"

Shit, he thought. "Goddamnit, Harrison, she's just a fucking diversion! Somebody's probably sneaking around on the other side! Hold your position and make sure someone pokes around in Lincoln Hall!"

"Yes, sir! We're on it, sir!"

Smith grabbed the zanpakutou next to him and headed to his private jet. For all his faults and lack of positive first impressions, Harrison made for a decent commander; but this was serious. He needed to get there right away.

-:-

Soifon turned down the hallway and did a reiatsu scan. On the far left, she could feel Matsumoto's reiatsu.

It was incredibly faint - almost completely drained. But what worried her more was that it felt disgusting. Like it was bathed in grimy motor oil, caked with a layer of coal dust, and then dumped in a bucket of slime. Soifon feared the worst as she charged ahead. She had no particular affinity for the 10th division vice captain - they were completely different women and had no relationship between them at all. But she was still a comrade; and the Gotei 13 was the only thing Soifon still had. Personally close or not, her mission was to get Matsumoto out alive.

A heavy iron door sealed the entrance to wherever they had locked up Matsumoto. With a shunko-infused kick, Soifon reduced it to scrap metal.

Now Soifon was a tough woman. There were very few things in life that would faze her. Being in the Covert Ops takes a bit of an iron stomach when you consider all of things you will likely be asked to do, and Soifon had been raised since birth to remain indifferent no matter what she came across.

Yet, somehow, the site in front of her was still jarring.

-:-

"This way!" Rantao pointed, and Ichihime followed.

The division 1 campus had too many twists and turns to allow for smooth shunpo, so the two lieutenants were now on foot. Ichihime could now get a better look at Rantao's katana, and it was a strange sight indeed.

In its released form, it was still a katana, but the blade was now inverted - the outside edge of the blade was now the blunt side, with the razor-edge now running along the inside curve. That was the least of its unusual properties. Several cutouts, almost like finger holes, were spread liberally throughout the blade. Some appeared to be simple holes, but some were filled with different shades of glass; and yet others seemed to be filled with nothing but smoke and fog. The crossguard was morphed into a sharp ring that seemed to rotate around the hilt but was yet completely unattached; almost as though it hovered in place by sheer will. It was unusually futuristic for a zanpakutou.

On the other hand, Rantao _was_ in the 12th. Ichihime wouldn't have been shocked if Rantao's shikai had been a gun that shot kido, all things considered.

"That's strange," Ichihime noted as they stopped. "This is the first division barracks."

"Not here," Rantao explained. Ichihime was surprised that the older woman wasn't out of breath. "Behind it - I think it's a path to the main Senkai gate!"

"We better hurry, then!" Ichihime confirmed, and ripped her tanto out of the sheath on her thigh. "_Scream, Shiji!_ You might need to catch this guy on the run."

_Sure thing, Hime-sama,_ her brass tanto answered as it morphed into its giant boomerang form.

The two shikai-enabled lieutenants charged behind the barracks towards the main senkai gate. When they reached the plaza, Kiku shouted at the top of her lungs. _"SEAL THE GATE!"_

-:-

Agent Smith set down his half-orange-juice-half-Sprite-with-ice as the plane began to descend. Whipping out his cell phone and cycling through the list of numbers in his contacts list, he pressed the green button and waited for Harrison to pick up.

"Hey, Boss," came the other end.

"Jenkins?" Smith asked. "What happened to Harrison?"

"He's busy. Thinks he might have an idea."

"Who approved this 'idea' of his?" Smith asked, pissed.

"I did, Boss," Jenkins answered, his voice indicating he would be accountable for the decision.

"Alright, then." Smith thought for a moment. "Any word on Lincoln Hall?"

"Yuim reported he was assaulted by a shinigami and had his zanpakutou taken. Called Wagner and his men for backup. One of his men confirmed that it was the King of Clubs, and she had Subject Alpha with her."

"SUBJECT ALPHA!"

"Yeah, Boss."

Smith went into a worried fit. "Is she hurt? Do we know if she's okay? You know if one of those fuckup droolers accidentally got her caught in the crossfire - "

"Calm down, Boss; as far as we know, Alpha is still okay. Our guys know better."

"_She isn't some fucking porcelain doll, Jenkins!_" Smith shouted. "She's a real person, you know," he continued, calming down a bit. "She's probably scared shitless right now." Embarrassed, he admitted that which was widely known but very rarely voiced. "Jenkins - she's the only family I have left."

"We know, Boss."

Smith's rage returned. "I swear, Jenkins, if she gets hurt, Quentin isn't going to be worrying about his lost zanpakutou, I tell you!"

"I know, Boss, I know. You sure as hell don't gotta tell me, we all know."

Smith was just beyond pissed. This was disastrous. Smith wasn't particularly religious, but he paused to pray for her safety. As long as she was okay. Even if the shinigami have her, he could cope with that. As long as she was safe.

Still, the situation was awful. That damn fucker, Smith thought. He had never trusted Quentin Yuim to begin with. That fucker was a brilliant doctor and one of the most knowledgeable people he could find on spirit matter, but Yuim was a goddamn mad scientist. He didn't even want to hear one more word about how Yuim got Subject Gamma to 'fess up. Had Smith not intervened, Yuim probably would have raped her silly. The personal safety and security of those around him had obviously not been at the top of Yuim's list of priorities, or otherwise Alpha would still be safe and sound.

In hindsight, perhaps assigning Laeveteinn to Quentin was not the best idea.

"Shit, Jenkins!" Smith realized. "Quentin lost his zanpakutou! He lost _Laeveteinn! ?_" What a cocksucking catastrophe! "Jenkins, for shit's sake, this is an elite military operation, not a thumb-sucking kindergarten! How the fuck did Quentin lose Laeveteinn? That's a grim failure, Jenkins!"

Jenkins snorted. "Not as grim as what Wagner got. He lost his head."

"Fucking fantastic," Smith spat.

"Yeah, not all of Wagner's men survived. That King of Clubs - she's a fast little bitch, Boss. We don't even know if Yuim is alive."

"Did you at least call for backup?" Smith asked, exasperated. What a bunch of pussies this crew was turning out to be.

"Sanders called in twenty minutes ago, said he was going to confront the King of Clubs head-on."

Smith contemplated that. "Do you think Sanders can contend with her?"

"Assuming she's the one who picked up Q's sword," Jenkins said, "It should take Sanders all of three minutes."

-:-

Momo was already off-center, but this revelation somehow shoved her into her instinctive mode as a high-ranking combat officer. _Take control_, she thought. _Don't lose control. Own the battle. Steer it the way you want. He's just trying to manipulate me._

"Manipulate you?" Kyouka Suigetsu questioned amusingly. "No. _Convince_ you? Certainly."

"What do you want out of this, Kyouka Suigetsu? What do you expect to gain? What are _your_ desires, ambitions and fears?" Momo challenged. She needed to quickly decide what she was going to do so that she could return her attention to the two agents outside.

"Isn't it obvious?" the alien replied. "I want to be used again. To fulfill my dreams of being wielded by a god, rather than be left in some storeroom or wielded by a human incapable of such lofty ascension. Those are my desires, ambitions, and fears, Hinamori Momo of the Shining Korean Sun."

Momo didn't give him pause to breathe. "How are you alive? Shouldn't you be dead?"

"I should be, yes," Kyouka Suigetsu admitted. "If not for Aizen's last-ditch plans. They were long since discarded after he found the Hougyoku and believed that he had attained immortality."

Momo wanted to hear more but had good sense to know that now was not the right time.

"So now it is your turn, Hinamori Momo of the Shining Korean Sun. What are you desires and your fears?"

She hesitated. "I- I don't know."

"You may not speak lies here in this inner sanctum, Momo-san. You must speak the truth, as you know it to be."

Unsure of herself and already feeling more than insecure, Momo contemplated the question for a few moments. "My desire - I... I-" Shame burned in her cheeks as she was embarrassed to admit the truth. "...I want to grow up."

"And your fears?"

Momo looked askance in a vain effort to avoid having to look at her own face. "That I won't. That I'll never grow up. That I'll always be taken advantage of by those who are wiser and more cunning."

"And so you speak the truth," the alien Kyouka Suigetsu answered.

"I'm not done yet," Momo snapped angrily, her self-confidence (or perhaps instinct for survival) returning. "And _you_," Momo added fiercely. "That _you_ will take advantage of me."

If the being had a face, Momo would have seen it smile. "You question my intentions, Momo-san? Tell me, Momo-san, do you fear your own zanpakutou, Tobiume?"

"...No," Momo answered, a bit thrown by the question.

"Did she not just betray you much more than I ever did? Confessing your inner soul and pushing you into the water against your will?"

Momo was thrown into confusion and denial. "But-"

"Or perhaps you are incapable of admitting the truth? That the only way you can be sure that I won't ever be used against you is to wield me yourself?"

"But-"

"Enough equivocation, Hinamori Momo of the Shining Korean Sun. It is time you decide to become a god. Take me for your own power, own me, command me, shape the world with me!"

Eyes quivering with anxiety, Momo stalled. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Kyouka Suigetsu laughed. "The sun, Momo-san, is the center of all life. It serves man, animal, plants - it is mighty and powerful and strong," he explained. "But no one can ever stare into the sun, Momo-san, and know all of its secrets. No one can deviate the sun from its path, nor diminish its glow - not me or anyone else."

Momo tilted her head in an intrigued gesture, as if to imply for the alien in front of her to continue.

"But then the sun sets, dear Momo-san, and there is the moon. The moon can shine only because it is a reflection of the sun's awesome power. Without the sun, the moon is nothing. Without the moon, the sun's power can be hidden by night and darkness, by despair and hopelessness.

"So take me, Hinamori Momo of the Shining Korean Sun," he gestured as the sword form of Kyouka Suigetsu materialized in front of her. "Together, Tobiume and I will give you the sun and the moon and the stars, and all the greatness you have ever dreamed of. You wish to be a woman, Momo-san? Then tuck your childhood away under the burning stare of the shining celestial sun, where no one can ever find it again. Become a god so that you don't die a child - take your place as a god over all, a god who governs life with beneficence or malice or however you see fit to rule - cast aside your doubts and skepticism, your inhibitions and your hesitations, Hinamori Momo of the Blazing Korean Sun - _seize your destiny! Become a god like no other has before you!"_

...

...Tobiume?

_...Do it._

With a sudden iron conviction, Hinamori Momo seized the sword in front of her.

-:-

Smith contemplated Jenkin's assessment. It was possible this was salvageable. "What about Subject Gamma?"

"Alarms broken, but no confirmation yet. According to what Harrison said, it looks like Peterson, Price, and... Morgan are on their way; with... Johnson, Hughes, and Roberts are on standby."

Fine, Smith thought. At least that's a respectable crew. "How are we doing with the Ace of Diamonds?"

"Not good," Jenkins sighed. "We've been able to stop her assault by bombarding her with everything we got; forcing her to play defense. We started dumpin' tear gas down and we think she's using her energy to block it out or something. But we're having trouble breaking through. We got supplies for another hour of this mayhem, but otherwise we're gonna run out of bullets."

"What's the likelihood we can take down the Ace?"

"Well, Boss, I'll tell you this: Harrison may seem like a wart's zit sometimes, but he's worth his salt when it comes to good ideas. We're leaning on him. 'Cause if you ask me, the only way to hit that bitch is with a 20-megaton daisy cutter."

Smith closed his eyes in annoyance. "Fine. I'll be there soon."

"Alright, Boss. Call me when you get in."

-:-

Matsumoto was unconcsious, completely naked and chained to a steel table. Her entire body, including her head and even her eyebrows, had been shaved. Every last square centimeter of her body was tattooed in black, even her shaven scalp. Even her armpits were tattooed.

"Whore" was written across her forehead in huge, prominent letters.

"Hussy" and "Hooch" were etched down her nose.

"Slut" was tattooed hundreds of times all over her face.

Large black arrows had been drawn around her pelvis with degrading, debased instructions of debauchery:

"Insert here"

"Free pussy"

"Warm and squishy"

"Juicy"

"Eat me"

They spared no dignity, without restraint. The vulgarity of seeing the four-letter C word inscribed in huge letters across Matsumoto's breasts completely shocked Soifon. She had seen and heard a lot of nasty language in her career, but nobody uses that word. It's such a repulsive word that even the foulest mouths you could find in any dimension would dare not say it.

As Soifon scrambled to break open the chains with flash-infused fists, she could not help but grimace at the awful words etched into the vice captain's flesh. Her entire body was laced with the most hideously raunchy slurs she had ever seen, along with so many graphic, explicit directives that Soifon could not even fathom who had time to inflict such physical and mental torture.

Once she freed it from the chains, Soifon hoisted the unconcious Matsumoto into a sitting position. They didn't spare her back, either. The least disgusting epithet tattooed on her back was a tramp-stamp that read "Sodomize me". Her left buttock was tattooed with all kinds of degrading caricatures of Rangiku being viciously used, and her right cheek was marked with an emblazoned bullseye. The text in the center of the target started with the words "Spank Me" and ended with a phrase Soifon was ashamed to have shouted at Kotsubaki from time to time.

Rangiku's eyes seemed to flutter open as Soifon hauled her up. "Ugh," she moaned, clearly dizzy and dehydrated.

"Are you okay? What did they do to you?" Soifon asked anxiously, even though she knew she didn't want to hear the answer.

Matsumoto swallowed, her burning throat dry from dehydration. "Need water," she croaked.

Soifon found a small sink in the corner of the room. She didn't have anything to put the water in, so she had to make several trips carrying water back and forth in her small hands.

Rangiku eventually broke the silence. "They didn't rape me," she said, struggling to get the words out through her weakness.

"Are you sure?" Soifon asked. She didn't believe it.

"Yes," Rangiku said firmly. "They would have if I didn't answer their questions."

Soifon nodded in understanding. "What did you tell them?"

"Not much," Matsumoto coughed out. "The only inside information I gave them was names and ranks. They had a deck of cards with our pictures on them. They wanted me to confirm the information that they already had."

"That was it?"

"Lots of questions about hollows and how to kill them," Matsumoto creaked, "plus lots of questions about the differences between vaizard and arrancar. But I didn't give them any other classified information, though."

Soifon was wondering if Matsumoto was telling the truth. "They did this to you for _that_?"

"No," Matsumoto replied. "_This_," Rangiku gestured to her body, losing it for a moment, "was for shattering Heineko so that they couldn't get their hands on it."

The 2nd division captain nodded. "Alright, let's get out of here."

Mastumoto nodded and allowed Soifon to hoist her up. In a flash of shunpo, Soifon bolted for the nearest exit, carrying Rangiku over her shoulder. It wouldn't be the most comfortable way to ride, but she didn't appear to have any broken bones and it was the easiest way for her to maneuver.

"Soifon to Akon," she buzzed into her commlink. "I have Matsumoto - send me Omaeda."

"Roger, Captain."

Hold on, Soifon thought. I'm going to get you out of here.

-:-

Kyon grabbed Toyuki by the hand, pulling her through. He knew the contact would make her uncomfortable, but he was too concerned for her safety at the moment. He led the way through the maze of rooms until he entered the hallway, where he froze in terror. _No. Not him. Anybody but him._

"What's wrong?" Rukia asked, running up behind him.

"As if you have to ask that question, shinigami," came the voice from an agent waiting for them. "I am Agent Sanders, and you are stealing our zanpakutou factory. _That_ is what's wrong."

_Sanders,_ Kyon swore to himself. He was one of the highest ranking agents in the building, serving only two tiers underneath Smith. He was also a sadistic bastard and a former member of the KGB. Not that sissy one that had been under the USSR - but the real, my-balls-are-made-of-titanium-tough KGB.

Rukia withdrew the katana she had with her. "Let us pass. I have no desire to kill you, but I will if I have to."

Sanders laughed. "You're not going to kill anybody but yourself. That's what you get for thinking you could wield a weapon you know nothing about."

Rukia eyed him from behind the blade. "I don't do long-winded conversations. If you have something to say, get it out in the open," she cautioned sternly.

The black-haired Russian man seemed to find this amusing. "Laevateinn, is it not? You stole it from Q."

"I _reclaimed_ it," she corrected.

He chuckled. "Ah, so you say. But your own audacity will kill you."

"I thought I told you I don't do long-winded conversations," Rukia threatened.

"Ever hear of Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi?"

_This_ got Rukia's attention. Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi was the most legendary weapon in all of Japan. Although most people outside the Land of the Rising Sun had never heard of it, in Japan it was practically as famous as Excalibur. The 'Grass Cutting Sword' was one of the legendary Imperial Regalia of Japan. Hundreds of tales, some true and some completely myth, had been written about the Grass Cutting Samurai, swordsmen so skilled that they could toss a blade of grass into the air and then slice it in two.

But even if Rukia's attention was piqued, she gave nothing away. "You're long-winded," Rukia retorted.

He pulled a tsurugi off of his back. It was the most plain double-edged sword Rukia had ever seen; it looked like a bad movie prop. It had no characteristic markings, no special metals, no unusual designs. It didn't even look like the Imperial Regalia that Rukia had seen pictures of. "Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi is one of the most crafty zanpakutou in existence," Sanders smirked. "It gives its wielder all of the abilities and strengths possessed by their opponent."

Rukia eyes widened as her body suddenly began to seize in horrible, awful terror.

"Do you feel it?" Sanders laughed. "The fear? The panic? The dread?"

Rukia began to step backwards, cowering from the man in front of her.

"_Laevateinn_ - the zanpakutou that manipulates _fear_. To reduce their enemies into cowering blobs. By raising that weapon to me, you have granted me the ability to turn you into nothing more than a pathetic, pitiful mouse!"

Oh- my- god-

_I am going to die,_ Rukia panicked.

_Ksa, ksa, ksa, I am so going to die! _

_**GET ME OUT OF HERE!**_

* * *

_Yes, I have deliberately misromanized the Japanese word 'kuso' (literally: shit) to the more evocative and commonly-used pronunciation ('ksa').  
****__Reviews, please!_ Next chapter: Four words, folks. "Nanao is a badass."


	22. The King of Hueco Mundo

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_"Nope. Sorry. Not even close. Shinigami are not the arbiters of good and evil, and whoever truly believes that is either an arrogant shithead or an ignorant fool. Or more likely, both._

_"A hollow is not some evil being created when a soul 'loses it'. That's just a huge misunderstanding. A hollow is about the empty, void attachment of a soul to its world. It is when they feel an inability to move on, a pull that keeps them from letting go of their unrequited love, the money that they can no longer spend, their unfulfilled dreams, the silly honor that they once held, or even a philosophy that they cannot resolve with the reality of their death. A hollow is not necessarily evil, just irrational - incapable of realizing that the time has come to pass on to the next world._

_"It is this emptiness that eats at them until it drives them insane, and the only way to fill the hole is to find other souls to fill the void. For some, eating one soul at a time is incapable of satiating their endless thirst, and like an addict trying to staunch their cravings, they assault other well-fed hollows, until they become gillians. The mixture of souls is too much for them to retain their individuality, and instead of a focused, drilling emptiness; it is just a sea of mindless confusion._

_"But there are those hollows who are self-aware. Those that remember why they are attached to the world they died in. Those that cannot escape their pain and suffering at all, because it is an acute definition of their essence. It is these poor souls that recall themselves in the gillian mash of spirits, and rise to become adjuchas. That is when the hollow must make a decision: do they make peace with their newfound state of being, this ravaging hunger even more fierce than before - or are they incapable of accepting it? Most choose the easy path, and they become nothing more than savage-yet-intelligent beasts, like raptors that hunt merely to keep their minds sharp. They hunt because if they don't continue to maintain their unfulfilled purpose, they will devolve back into the mindless confusion of gillians._

_"So hollows are not necessarily evil - although perhaps the best way to define them is to call them tragic. It is not that shinigami exist to purge their evil, but rather to end their tragedy. To allow them to be reborn. To live and to die all over again, although maybe this time, to die with dignity instead._

_"Yet there are those adjuchas that realize they can transcend the hunger, and that they long for only the most base human instinct - the one trait that allows any soul to become a hollow: the will to survive. No longer do they focus on their attachments to world they came from, for that life is long gone. Instead, these mishmashed souls, oddly enough, fall back to the most basic human need - to live. It is these hollows that become vasto lorde. And the will to survive most definitely does not make them evil. If anything, it sadly makes them the most human hollows of all."_

_~7th division captain Banzo Ichihime, widely acknowledged to be one of the greatest Heads of Banzo House since the dawn of shinigami history;  
nearly two centuries from now_

* * *

Rantao dived headfirst into Sasakibe, knocking him and his bag onto the floor.

"What the hell are you-"

_WHACK._

The back of her target's head hit the cobblestones as Rantao slugged him in the face. Within seconds, she was on top of him, grappling for position, fearlessly smashing him into the stone floor at every opportunity.

"Rantao-san, what are you doing! ?" Ichihime asked. This was nuts. Absolutely nuts.

"Open his bag!" Rantao ordered, not caring about seniority at the moment.

The brief diversion of her attention was enough of an opening for her target to shove Rantao off of him. Sasakibe appeared to be scuffled up quite a bit but wasn't done yet. Withdrawing his sword, Sasakibe stared her down. "You better have a good explanation for this!" he yelled.

"Rantao-san," Ichihime claimed, exasperated, "Claymore isn't in here!" Of course it can't be in here, the thing is a fucking four-foot Scottish broadsword and _this_ is a fucking rucksack.

_"Yes it is!"_ she insisted, never taking her eyes off of her target in front of her.

"Rantao-san," Ichihime cautioned. "Let's just put away our weapons and calm down."

_"NO!"_ she yelled. "Check the bag!"

"There's nothing here," Ichihime said, frustrated.

"There's got to be something in there!" Kiku shouted, circling against the 1st division lieutenant. "It's not empty, is it?"

"There's nothing in here," Ichihime exclaimed. "Just a case of cigars." Blech, she thought. Cigar breath. Yuck.

"Open up the cigars!" Kiku ordered.

"That's enough," Sasakibe shouted. "This is preposterous!"

By now, a crowd of 1st division members were peeling out of the barracks, but they were remaining on the sidelines. One look at Rantao's kendo stance was all it took for the to decide it was better to let their own vice captain sort out whatever was going on.

"Really, Sasakibe?" Kiku spat as she charged at him. The strike was aimed at his throat, certainly lethal if her shikai wasn't blunt on the outside edge.

Chojiro blocked it with his unreleased katana, but Rantao was apparently a skilled swordswoman. The pressure she had exerted was at an angle that gave him a very small range of motion, lest he lose his balance and leave himself wide open. He had no room for any real counterattack. "Ridiculous!" he shouted, and with the little manueverability he had, swatted her face in order to knock off her glasses.

Rantao stepped back, barefaced; her chestnut hair beginning to fall loose from its normal half-bun. "Banzo-senpai," she said, preparing to strike again. _"We are here to arrest him. Don't mistake it."_

"I'll have you executed for this, woman!" Chojiro took the opportunity to grind his boot into her glasses. "Let's see you fight now!"

A blue eddy of reiatsu began to run over Kiku's skin as the edge of her mouth slowly tilted upwards. "Here I come," she said under her breath - and with a giant leap, her space-age katana was hurled down at Sasakibe with a two-handed strike that would have made a stack of cinder blocks seem featherweight by comparison.

Sasakibe clumsily blocked it, not expecting the full force of the blow. It struck hard. _Very_ hard. A lot harder than he would have expected. His crossbar stance was slightly off, and as a result, his upper body bent slightly backwards - and Rantao took advantage of this miscalculation.

And what a miscalculation it was, because Rantao used the opening to plant a nice, strong kneecap right up into his family jewels. The strike made him wince and gasp in paralysis, and Rantao was easily able to disarm him with a swift kick to his wrist. As soon as Sasakibe's sword skittered out of reach, Rantao ended the fight with a knockout punch between the eyes.

"Rantao-san!" Ichihime screamed. Holy fucking shit! She just kicked the Soutaicho's vice captain in the sack. Shit, shit, shit. The new lieutenant was going to get fired. As in, _Ryuujin Jakka_ fired.

"Watch him!" Kiku ordered her as she scrambled to recover the fallen weapon.

Ichihime looked at her, only slightly dumbstruck. "Wow, you can really trash a guy," she said absentmindedly, unable to comprehend the giant heap of shit she was in right now.

Rantao laughed. "I wake up at four every morning to train with Urahara-san," she explained. "I sit in front of a computer almost all day. If I didn't train with Taicho, I'd become so fat I'd probably break the scales in the women's barracks."

Hollow balls and tentacle rape, Commander Geezerface is so going to have my ass for letting this happen. And Captain Stonewall - oh sweet ancestors - he might even _lecture_ me. Oh fuck, that would be _the worst_. "Can you see?" Ichihime asked, still a bit dumbfounded.

"Of course I can."

"But your glasses...?"

"Oh, those?" Rantao laughed. Leaning in close to Ichihime, she added quietly, "I bought them from a props store when I heard Kyoraku Taicho had a thing for ladies with eyewear."

Ichihime just stared at her in complete disbelief.

"Hey, I admit it, I'm desperate, okay?" Rantao muttered, only enough so that Ichihime could hear. "I'm don't have to be proud about it."

The whole plaza had become a spectacle by now, and Ichihime felt extremely uncomfortable - and not because yet another crazy woman was swooning over her uncle. For her sake, she sure as hell hoped the 12th division lieutenant knew what she was doing. "Rantao-san, this is crazy. Why did you attack Sasakibe Fukutaicho?"

"_That_ sack of meat _can't_ be Sasakibe Fukutaicho," Kiku declared, relieved to not be talking about herself. "Because right now, Sasakibe Chojiro is in Doverfield, Pennsylvania; chopped up into several pieces and sealed inside a morgue freezer," she explained, pointing to her zanpakutou. "_This_ is someone else. He certainly can't fight like a lieutenant, which only further suggests it isn't really Sasakibe-san. But I can prove it."

"How?"

Ichihime barely caught the zanpakutou that Kiku had recovered. Within moments, a telepathic message was in her brain: _Who do you want to be today?_

"What the fuck!" Ichihime yelled at the weapon, barely managing to keep herself from dropping it.

"Doppelganger," Kiku explained. "An omega zanpakutou long thought dead that could change the form of itself or anything it touches."

"What!"

Kiku took the blade back from Ichihime. "_Molt_," she commanded it, recalling the details from the file with her photographic memory. The blade became a thin, pointy rod with the bottom end folded over to form a rudimentary handguard. "_Dispel_," Kiku continued, and the box of cigars lying next to Ichihime morphed into a sizable wooden crate. The man masquerading as Sasakibe was now visible in plain sight - he had brown hair and was wearing a nondescript black suit and tie over a white shirt. Other than clutching his precious balls, he didn't seem to move.

"Holy shit," Ichihime said under her breath. The moment she regained her senses, Ichihime reverted Shiji back into a tanto and dashed over to the crate. Jamming it under the edge, she started to pry open the nails on the lid.

_Hey, since when did I become a crowbar?_

Shut yer pie hole, Shiji. This is important.

_I don't have a pie hole, Hime-sama._

Yeah, yeah; you know we've been through this routine before and it's getting old already. Now shut up and help me get this box open.

After a few minutes, the crate's lid was torn off, and Rantao Kiku finally felt that maybe - just _maybe_ - she might have deserved to be a vice captain after all:

Inside were the dead swords of Banzo Tanabi, Madarame Ikkaku, and Zaraki Kenpachi.

"Lock up this bastard," Ichihime ordered a shinigami standing close by. "We need to go see the Soutaicho."

-:-

Sanders cackled, his thick Russian accent spilling into his English. "Look at you, poor little vice captain girl, smothered by your fear."

Rukia was freaking out. She was completely screwed. There was no way she could survive. She was going to die, never to have a child, never to see Ichigo ever again, never to see Nii-sama or Nee-sama or Hisako-chan or Karin-chan or Yuzu-chan or Nanao-san or Momo-san or Ukitake Taicho or Komamura-sensei or Unohana-sensei or little Kitsune-chan or Kotetsu or...

The agent in front of her was harrowing. He was a monster of a man, with big, beefy arms and a face that only the Grim Reaper would want. The shine on his balding hairline gave Rukia the chills. She was in over her head. _Way_ over her head. With every step that he advanced, Rukia's heart went wilder and wilder until it was violently pumping dizzyness into her brain. His visage was like a piercing knife, reverberating out of every nightmare she had ever seen.

_Oh my god I am GOING TO DIE._

He was now inches away, and Rukia was trapped against a wall. As he bent over, Rukia scrambled to the floor, cowering and cowering until she could move no more. His face was only inches from her nose, and she could feel his hot, predatory breath rasping on her pale cheeks.

He was going to violate her and eat her brains and OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO DIE AND I WILL HAVE NEVER HAD A BABY _OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO DIE WITHOUT A BABY_ OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO DIE _I AM GOING TO_

_"Boo,"_ he smiled devilishly, and Rukia knee-jerk screamed in terror-laden shock. "Heh heh, you are not so special now, are you, poor little vice captain girl?"

Rukia was relieved for no longer than a nanosecond as Sanders barked a warning to the others that she was incapable of hearing over her panicky cries and shrieks. It was no reprieve; his neat little rows of bone-munching teeth were still inches away; ready to chew the flesh off her face.

"This can't be very special," Sanders taunted, yanking the hairpin off her head. The terror was worse than the pain - Rukia nearly pissed herself. "And I imagine you'll need this to wipe your little girly bottom after you shit yourself," he added, yanking her scarf off and tossing them aside.

_Oh my god, I am dead. I am dead. This is it. Goodbye, Ichigo. I love you. Remember me. Please._

Sanders was enjoying himself. He loved playing cat and caught mouse. "And of course, I'll need this for safekeeping." Sanders wrapped his hand around the brass badge tied around her arm, and began to tug it away from her.

But the thing about fear is that sometimes, it works _for_ you as much as it does against you.

Rukia didn't care how scared she was - the second the harrowing agent touched the badge on her arm, she went _berserk_. There was no way in the entire universe of pain that anyone was going to take that from her. Rukia's worst fear - that someone would desecrate the most precious inheritance she had ever received - was far more powerful than any other horror one could force upon her. In a desperate attempt to save the legacy that shaped her life, Rukia immediately kicked, bit, punched, spat, and fought in a wild, uncontrolled, panicky fury.

_"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY BADGE, YOU ROTTEN BASTARD!"_

Sanders was caught completely off guard and nearly fell over - and it was a grave mistake. The shinigami's unbridled explosion of shrieking, hostile rage was now given room to move, and the shinigami who still had Laeveteinn in hand was now swinging it in a dangerous, undisciplined, chaotic hackery of a mess.

Scrambling and stumbling, Sanders would have had time to recover if not for an opportunistic Kyon, who decided that maybe he could play hero after all. Sanders stumbled backwards as Kyon crashed into his knees in a full-throttle tackle, causing the agent to throw his arms up in an attempt to maintain balance.

Right in front of a sword-swinging lunatic.

_Thwick._

_Clang._

And that was all it took for Kusanagi-no-Tsurigi, still within grip of the severed arm, to come crashing to the ground with a loud, metallic twang.

Rukia shook her head as if to stave off the daze. What was she freaking out about? She couldn't remember. Damnit, where are Naga-san and Kyon-kun? Looking down the hall, she caught a quick glance of the gray-haired childlike woman standing farther back, and Kyon pinning Sanders to the ground in what appeared to be a Greco-Roman four-by-four leglock.

She quickly planned her course of action. _"Bakudo #61: Six Rods of Light Prison,"_ Rukia cast, pointing at the bleeding, screaming agent who was now taking his own turn to freak out for a while. Gleaming shafts of light locked him in place on the floor, and Rukia gestured for Kyon to get up.

"Are you alright?" he asked her in Greek.

"Yeah, I think so," she answered, surveying herself for a minute.

Kyon reverently picked up the discarded scarf and hairpin for her. "I- here," he said simply, handing them to her.

"Efcharisto," Rukia thanked him warmly as she re-donned her brother's gifts.

"I don't think I've ever heard Greek with a Japanese accent," he smirked.

Rukia chuckled. "Is there anyone else?" Kyon shook his head. "Alright, get Naga-san. I have business with this scumbag."

While Sanders remained frozen in place, Rukia applied medical kido to his arm to seal the wound so he wouldn't bleed to death. It was not easy kido - normally, medical kido only worked on spirit matter; trying to apply it to human flesh was a lot more draining - but she couldn't afford to have this asshole die.

Yet.

"Let me make something clear, Agent Sanders," Rukia stated as she glared down at him with a stern look from the Ice Princess that she was. "You can tell everyone you see in this entire rotten operation that there is only one name that they need to remember for their history books."

From beneath the prison of light, the eyes of Sanders quivered in his own unique kind of fear.

"That name is Kotsubaki Sentaro. The moment you killed him, you brought ruin upon yourselves."

With a furious punch to the temple, Rukia knocked him unconscious and let her spell break. "Let's go," she called to the others. "Kyon, lead the way."

"Hold on," he said, and grabbed Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi from the floor. "I can imagine this might be useful," he said with a grin.

Rukia folded her arms smugly. "Trying to impress your lady with heroics, eh?"

Kyon blushed, looking at... 'Toyuki'. He was going to have to get used to knowing her name now. "Well... uh..."

Rukia laughed. "Eh, my husband does it all the time. Let's go."

-:-

"Akon to Ise/Omaeda: Hostage retrieved; request Omaeda for assistance on west edge, stat."

"Roger," Nanao acknowledged in between short incantations.

"Shosho," Omaeda garbled, "what about the signal for backup?"

"Go," Nanao commanded. "I'll cover you. Hurry!"

Omaeda nodded and flashed back behind them. He would take the long route around so as to avoid the current conflict. It was safer than trying to shunpo through the enemy lines, which had surrounded them in almost a full 180-degree circle.

Nanao began chanting another _Bakudo #81: Severing Void_ while she cast large-scale repulse barriers with a flick of her left hand and Kantoum barriers with the nimble movement of her right fingers. The agents had opened up fire with all kinds of artillery, including anti-tank rounds, grenade launchers, tear gas, and even flamethrowers. Nanao didn't think she was in danger yet, but it was getting harder for her to go on offense. Furthermore, being stuck behind so many barriers (and trying to protect Omaeda all at the same time) meant that she had zero maneuverability and no real chance of self-extraction.

But Omaeda was gone. No need to keep playing Mr. Nice Gal. "Ise Shosho to Command Central," she recited after casting the bakudo, "Requesting that you lift my limit; fighting at least fifty armed agents right now...!"

Akon's voice could be heard buzzing in her ear. "Actually, you've got about three hundred on you. Permission granted, limit lifted for Ise Nanao."

"Thanks," she said, a thin smile forming on her face. _Payback time._

Nanao turned up the juice slowly, first letting the reiatsu haze in her glasses glow a bright red and then issuing her Handoshi's pumpkin haze slowly until it was tickling over the surface of her skin.

_"Limit of the thousand hands, respectful hands, unable to touch the darkness."_

Cannisters hissed. Rockets whistled as they crashed into her Severing Void barrier dead ahead.

_"Shooting hands unable to reflect the blue sky. The road that basks in light, the wind that ignited the embers, time that gathers when both are together, there is no need to be hesitant, obey my orders."_

Shotgun blasts exploded against the Kantoum barrier to her left. A spray of machine gun bullets pounded into her repulse barrier as though they had been stopped by a two-inch sheet of plexiglass.

_"Light bullets, eight bodies, nine items, book of heaven, diseased treasure, great wheel, grey fortress tower. Aim far away, scatter brightly and cleanly when fired."_

Nanao unleashed the full extent of her ten-thousand-year-old reiatsu. It would have exploded thirty feet in all directions if it wasn't contained by her many forcefields.

_"Hado #91: Thousand-Hand Bright-Heaven Culling Sear,"_ she cast, and the entire area went up in lights.

-:-

"What was _that_?" Matsumoto asked wearily, feeling the quake of reiatsu that was barely fathomable in her current state.

Soifon sneered. "Ise," she muttered. "I told her she doesn't know the meaning of the word stealth."

-:-

An explosion is formally defined as matter vacating a particular location in a short span of time. If there is a lot of matter at the origin and the span of time is unusually short, it means that the speed of the moving matter must be very great. Typically, the energy required for such movement is so great that it often causes friction with other matter in the area to cause large amounts of heat, and otherwise excess energy is converted into light; hence the commonly seen combustion that occurs during explosions.

In any case, the explosion that occurred in Doverfield military compound caused _so_ many molecules of matter to move _so_ mind-bogglingly fast that, for a short span of time, nearly all gas molecules in the air were hurled away of the point of origin. This being the case, there were quite literally no molecules really capable of bouncing the colossal sound waves of the explosion in any direction.

So for the first twenty seconds, Nanao reveled in the beautiful, glorious, reminiscent-of-those-justice-days-in-Hell when the burst of light and ash and heat was accompanied by the blissful sound of pure, uncluttered silence.

Soon to come, her favorite part: _Wait for it..._

**BBBOOOOOOMMM**.

-:-

"Gyaaah!" Kyon exclaimed, jumping and clutching Toyuki close to him. He was in a state of near total panic as the ground shook in a massive earthquake that almost rivaled the booming explosions that rattled his eardrums. "What was _that_! ?"

Rukia smiled as she shook her head. When Nanao was on the battlefield, sometimes it seemed like everything was made out of explodium. "Don't worry," Rukia explained as she regained her balance. "_That_ one is on our side. Ise Shosho isn't exactly known for her subtlety."

-:-

The rush of violent, cacophonous, destructive sonic boom nearly gave Nanao an orgasm. It was even better than the euphoria of a good opera. Not as good as sex, though - but hey, we all gotta work for a living.

_Ah, I love the smell of napalm in the evening,_ she mused silently.

Nanao sent out a reiatsu scan. There were only two survivors, but Nanao was surprised that they had survived at all. To be fair, they were hunkered down somewhere far off in the distance.

Keeping a barrier open in front of her, Nanao slowly advanced through the compound, looking for signs of life. In the meanwhile, she radioed for headquarters. "Akon, we're burning time here," she said firmly. "Can I get status on the others?"

Akon's voice came through a bit nervous. "Um, actually, Soifon didn't give you access to status for this mission."

"That pissy little bitch," Nanao muttered. What a control freak. "Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "Let me know when I can get out of this dump."

-:-

Jenkins eyes felt like they had been bored out with a power drill. _Sweet motherfucker,_ that was insane. He talked into his commlink wired around his wrist. "Harrison, you still alive?"

"Yes, sir," a haggard voice came through. "I made it into the artillery room just in time, sir."

"Alright," Jenkins asked, blinking his eyes a thousand times per second. "You still have a plan?"

"Working on it, sir," Harrison answered.

"Alright, hup to it."

-:-

Omaeda picked up his captain's reiatsu trail the moment he entered into Lincoln Hall. It was clear that she had been leaving this trail on purpose; she didn't do that otherwise. It wasn't long before he found her, lugging a very naked Matsumoto. The rescued lieutenant was in really bad shape - besides being covered head-to-toe with tattoos that even Omaeda found disgusting, she was unconscious.

"Stop staring, you hentai," Soifon commanded him.

"Taicho, I was just-"

"Shut up, Omaeda," Soifon ordered. "Take her from me."

"Sure thing," he answered, reaching for her, but Soifon didn't budge. "What?"

"If you touch her boobs, her butt, or anywhere else you shouldn't, I'm going to-"

"I don't wanna know," Omaeda interrupted her.

"Don't interrupt me," she said, punching him in the nose.

"A-a-aye, Taichoooo..." he whimpered, clutching his shnoz.

Soifon went around him and hoisted Matsumoto onto his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and very clearly positioning Omaeda's hands in an appropriate place on her thighs to hold her up. "Find Ise and get Matsumoto out of here. I'll notify command central. "

"What about Kuchiki Fukutaicho?"

"Kuchiki can find her own way out of this mess," Soifon explained. "Her mission isn't the same as ours. We came for Matsumoto."

"So then why aren't you coming?"

Soifon gave him a hard, deep look. It was the infrequent one that Soifon gave her vice captain when she decided he was actually worth treating like a person. "I've got other business here," she said. The order was clear: _Don't ask, don't tell. That's the way of the Onmitsukido._

"Hai, Taicho," Omaeda nodded, and flashed back out through the circuitous route he used to get here.

-:-

"Your Majesty, allow me to present the 12th division captain, Urahara Kisuke," Gantenbainne remarked with a polite bow.

"What an expected surprise," came the deep, throaty voice from Aizen's former throne.

"Undoubtedly, Hallibel-sama," Urahara replied. "An honor to see you again," he said graciously, bowing deeply. "I take it you are abreast of the situation?"

Tia glared at him. Her sharp green eyes, laced with equally glaring blond eyelashes, were narrowed to slits over the high-collar frock of her former espada uniform. "One can only hope that was a poor choice of words, Urahara-san."

Kisuke let her remarks pass without comment. Instead, Urahara gave his traditionally goofy grin. "In the name of the Secret Peace, I come to discuss a recent rendevous into Soul Society."

As per formalities, Hallibel replied, "In the name of the Secret Peace, I grant you harbor."

"Please forgive my intrusion, Hallibel-sama," Kisuke said politely. "I hope you have been well."

Tia gave him no such casual comforts. "Speak."

Urahara was most displeased. He had wanted Yoruichi here for a reason; there was a certain rapport between them as women that he knew he could never achieve. Nel, Tia, and Gantenbainne were the only remnants of the Espada, and Tia was the only vasto lorde arrancar that survived the Winter War. Most of the other arrancar had been eliminated by now.

Not eager to do business alone with The Teeth of Las Noches, but knowing he had to do so anyway, he scrambled to his feet. Neliel would have been much easier to bargain with, but it was clear that wasn't going to happen at the moment. "My, my, it looks like we have a lot to discuss, don't you think?"

Hallibel looked at him with a suspicious eye, but ultimately decided she wanted to hear what he came to say. "Mosqueda," she announced, her relatively deep and heavy voice rebounding along the white stone walls of the inner throne room, "Find Pesche and Dondochakka and make sure that Nel's entertainment provides the two of us an opportunity to discuss matters."

"Hai, Hallibel-sama," he said, and quickly made exit.

Urahara began. "Just the other day, a horde of gillians marched into Soul Society, led by two S-class adjuchas."

Tia's eyes narrowed darkly, but she gave no other form of response.

"These adjuchas, however," Urahara said as he lifted his head so that his eyes became visible from under his shaggy bangs, "had zanpakutou."

-:-

Morgan's everpresent Southern smile didn't budge, but his eyebrows certainly revealed some level of surprise. He wasn't quite expecting his gift to disappear from right before his eyes, vanishing into thin air. "Nows that's nots what's I's be's an-expectin'," he commented as the shinigami in front of him opened her eyes. "Where'd it now run off toos, Ms. Hinamori, Ma'am?"

"I have it," she answered simply, and took out another cigarette from the box in her pocket. At this rate, she was going to finish the pack before she left, but she didn't care.

"Wells now, I be a-guessin' that's jus' puhrfect," Morgan exclaimed excitedly. "I's be a glad thatchoo be ack-septin' ah gift. Nows hopesfully you kinna considda ah otha piece o' tha dis-kuh-shun, 'bout yoos not splatterin' alls tha rest o' us humble law-abidin' folk."

Momo took a long drag on her cigarette. "I'll think about it," she said dismissively.

"Eggsellent, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am. Ifs yoos don't mind, we're gonna be gettin' on ah way, makin' sure we's can be fulfillin' ah part of the bahgain, jus' so yoos don't have a hahd time decidin' if ya wanna go along with ah lil' arrangement."

Momo gestured for them to do their thing. She was worn out and didn't want to be bothered anymore.

Dutifully, Johnson packed up the now empty case and put it back in the trunk of the Lincoln Zephyr. He then folded up the table and did the same, and before long, the two agents were getting back into the car.

"Anna one mo thing, Ma'am," Morgan called out before he sat down in the front passenger seat. "I jus' wanna express ah deep gratt-ih-tude that's yoos been nice enough ta speak wit us. Anna I knows its sorta arrogance in-kah-nate fer a simple man o' flesh-n-blood ta judge the akshuns of a gawd, but I's be wantin' ta says that's I's think yoos made tha right choice."

Momo's head jerked up at him for some reason that she couldn't quite explain. "What did you say?"

"I says, I's be a-thankin' yoos, ye glorious God O'er Death, fer takin' the time ta hear out an ol' sinner like me."

She could hear Tobiume smirking. _He called us a god, O Peach of Mine._

He did.

_And how do you like the way it sounds, Master Sun?_ Kyouka Suigetsu asked.

A grin played on Momo's face as the fire in her eyes burned with ambition. This would not be the last time she would hear that accolade, she would be sure of it.

-:-

Hallibel's left eyebrow rose in a healthy dose of skepticism. "Resurreccions?"

"No, _zanpakutou._ We're positive."

The Teeth of Las Noches gave him a long, cold stare. "What are you implying, Urahara-san?"

"Nothing, Hallibel-sama. But seeing as how these were adjuchas on the verge of becoming vasto lorde, I was sure you would know something about them."

_"I like my lunch where I can eat it,"_ she retorted darkly.

"Of course, of course," he added hastily, putting up his hands to admit his surrender. "The Secret Peace is, of course, based on the fact that your goals of vasto lorde survival mesh nicely with the shinigami desire to keep these monsters from terrorizing other dimensions. I was just wondering if you knew anything about them. Surely you can't have too many pink and blue clothing-wearing adjuchas rampaging around with swords."

Hallibel folded her arms in what appeared to be more of a gesture of acquiescence than of confrontation. "I must confess, Urahara-san, that these are not the days of Aizen, may he smolder in Hell's inferno. We do not have the means nor technological accumen to police the vast space of our eternally nightbound world."

Urahara sighed. "Hallibel-sama, surely you must know something."

"What I do know, Urahara-san, is that the humans, on their world, are creating more hollow than me and my brethren can account for, and that the shinigami are overwhelmed. There are undoubtedly menos grande forming on Earth - a heretofore unprecedented occurrence. But I would not be surprised if this is happening; outside the purview of the Menos Forest where we are still capable of monitoring and breeding our meals."

"You sound as though you find us incompetent," Urahara commented lightly.

Hallibel looked away from him for a moment. "I do not," she said simply. "But I have sacrificed my daughters for the fall of Aizen and the era of the Secret Peace. It has benefitted us both, has it not? I merely fear I will be asked to sacrifice more, and more I do not have."

Urahara nodded, actually seriously for once. Tia Hallibel was, and always had been, the noblest of the Espada. She was the only one that the Gotei 13 spared from the Winter War, and not without a grand debate. She had only survived because of an unexpected turn of mercy from her former opponent at the Battle of Fake Karakura Town in The Great Winter War, ten years ago.

In a rare display of his polemic genius and frozen passion, Hitsugaya Toshiro convinced the Soutaicho that Hallibel should be set free. He had compiled a long list of convincing arguments, but ultimately it was one particular brilliant insight he put forth that the Soutaicho even entertained the idea.

_Tia Hallibel was manipulated by Aizen, and in the end, was betrayed by him. I've clashed swords with her, and I can tell you she is no enemy of ours. Why should we throw away a rare opportunity to have an ally in Los Noches. She isn't even within the purview of our roles as shinigami to cleanse hollows, for she might not even be one! A hollow without a hole is not a hollow as we know it. It would be wrong of us to presume that we should cleanse her like the monsters that harm others indiscriminately. Let her go!_

Among the other captains, few initially seemed influenced by any of his arguments. Surprisingly, though, Yamamoto had been convinced enough to put it to a vote. Unohana, Ukitake, Kyoraku, and Komamura were all eventually swayed by Hitsugaya's eloquence, with only Soifon dissenting.

But Soifon was not alone in her opinion. Hallibel herself had begged to die, Urahara remembered; desiring that she be the sacrifice she was always intended to be. In the end, though, it was Unohana's soft voice and gentle smile that had persuaded her. _You are already humanity's sacrifice - you have suffered the indignity of becoming a hollow. You should have passed on to Soul Society and experienced the honor of joining the shinigami. Is that not enough of a sacrifice, Tia-san? _

Urahara suspected that Unohana, who had lived a very long time, might have known Tia in a previous lifetime - for the comment hit home. For reasons only known to Tia Hallibel herself, she accepted Unohana's arguments, and permitted her care.

It was Hallibel who worked with the Gotei 13 to assemble the Secret Peace, and who had made a place for Neliel (who had been hanging out in Soul Society under safe harbor) to return to Hueco Mundo. It had taken little convincing to persuade Neliel and Gantenbainne to follow her as the new leader of Las Noches. The only vasto-lorde-made arrancar left, there was not a single soul in all of Hueco Mundo who could rival her, and she ruled with an iron fist. Tia's laws were the the laws of Hueco Mundo, and if that meant abiding by the Secret Peace, then that is what you did. The alternative was not really an alternative.

The Gotei 13 had been surprised that the Secret Peace had proven successful, but the past decade had been quiet. Both Yamamoto and Hallibel seemed satisfied with the arrangement. Central 46 had been against the idea, but it was an unspoken rule not to protest too much since the peace and quiet were too good to refuse.

A quiet silence hung in the air as both parties respected the pact they made. Urahara was first to continue. "We're pretty sure we know who provided the zanpakutou."

"Is that so?" Hallibel asked, returning her attention to him (although not quite as coldly this time).

"Yes," he confirmed. "We have a team infiltrating as we speak."

Tia didn't seem to care as she gave a mild shrug. "Is that all, Urahara-san? To ask me about some nuisances that you have already dispatched?"

Urahara pretended to be offended. "Those were not nuisances," he replied. "They killed a captain and a bankai-wielding third seat. Those adjuchas severely incapacited another captain and two lieutenants. We don't even know if all of them will pull through yet. This has been a huge blow both to our military strength and to shinigami morale, which is already bad as it is."

Hallibel was legitimately startled by this news. "Not-"

"No," Urahara answered. "The 11th and the 3rd."

Hallibel closed her eyes, trying to respect the grievous nature of the news. Urahara could see that she was conflicted - saddened by the deaths yet... relieved. "Please extend my hopes that the survivors should meet a fate of favor and kindness, and that the loved ones of the departed should never discover further sorrow."

"I shall convey your warm hopes," he replied solemnly.

"I am sorry, Urahara Taicho. I did not know."

"Ah, yes," Urahara smiled. "That's why we need to change the Secret Peace."

"_Change_ the Secret Peace?" Tia gasped. "You can't!" Tia shouted, immediately reaching for her sword. "How could you suggest such _sacrilege_!" she threatened.

"Not to abolish it, but to amend it," he replied with a sly smile. "Help us. Take a vacation in Europe for a few weeks. Let us cleanse Earth together. Eat your fill of hollows and aid the shinigami in cleaning out the mess of those mindless beasts. Right now, if we can't cleanse them, we at least can't have them causing damage wherever they go - it's exacerbating the war; what everyone used to think were gas leaks are now terrorist bombings. We have to get it under control."

Tia could not help but laugh. "You ask me to eat the meager crumbs? As though the lost and darkened souls of individual souls that teem Europe are worth such effort? Do you eat your rice one grain at a time, or do you slice each grain in half first?"

Urahara grimaced. "I prefer them clumped and wrapped with seaweed."

"Do not try my patience with gourmet food humor, Urahara-san. For what I would wish to be able to dine on grain instead of souls! _Do not forget where you are!"_

Urahara nervously apologized by quickly getting down on one knee and bowing. Tia Hallibel was not someone you took your chances with, and he had already been cutesy enough. "Deepest apologies, Hallibel-sama. My comment was made in poor tas- eh, was not very considerate."

Tia's anger subsided. She wasn't one to sustain rage, anyway. An apology was sufficient. "And is this your personal suggestion, Urahara-san? Or does the Gotei 13 agree it is the wisest course of action?"

"Yamamoto-san has refused to tell Central 46 about his plans, but he supports the initiative."

" 'What happens in Las Noches stays in Las Noches', Urahara-san?" Tia teased lightly.

He chuckled. "He is ready to personally issue the clearance for you, Neliel, and Gantenbainne. He will consider clearance for up to five other vasto lorde of your choosing, provided that they have a long history of respect for the Secret Peace and that you will be accountable for their actions. Otherwise, they risk death."

"No," Tia corrected. "Not death. _Sacrifice._ Those who break the Secret Peace do not deserve to be freed of the chains of Hueco Mundo."

"Your word carries weight with all of us," Urahara replied. Most hollows would gladly rather roll over and beg for a shinigami to slay them than be eaten by the King of the Hueco Mundo. That was a fate most hollows knew was much less pleasant than the end of a shinigami's sword. "It only strengthens our confidence in this plan."

Hallibel resumed her cross-armed stance of tacit agreement. "I will discuss it with my counsel."

At that moment, a twang of sonido could be heard as Neliel Tu Odershvank, adult and in full Espada regalia, resumed her position alongside the throne of Las Noches. "Ah, Tia-sama, glad to see you've engaged our guests. I take it you've finally convinced the shinigami to let us assist them as per the spirit of our pact?"

"Of course," Tia replied, a smirk forming underneath her collar where no one could see it.

Yoruichi appeared a moment later. "That was fun," she said, slapping her husband on the back. "Next time, you should join us!"

"Indeed you should," Hallibel suggested wryly.

"Tia-sama," Yoruichi greeted her politely with a small bow. "How have you been?"

"Well, I suppose," Tia answered. "And with you? I take it your daughter is well?"

"Of course!" Urahara interjected.

"I didn't ask you," Tia shot at him.

"Zarina-chan is doing wonderfully," Yoruichi replied cheerily. "Getting into trouble minute after minute, as one could expect."

"And the boys are getting bigger every day!" Urahara said.

"And I don't care about them," Tia retorted.

"Please forgive my husband," Yoruichi suggested. "He's got too much sand up his shorts."

"If I must," Hallibel bantered harmlessly, folding her arms. "On a more important note, I have heard that Inoue-san is not well."

Yoruichi thought for a moment before answering. "She's in very poor condition at the moment. Her entrance into Soul Society through the Dangai Precipice World was a bit hard on her system, but her prognosis is positive. We're hoping some rest in Soul Society will do her some good."

"I see," Tia said. "Please tell her that I wish her the best of health."

"It would be my honor," Yoruichi replied in a rare moment of Head-of-House formality. Given her company, it was appropriate.

"Ladies, as much as I would love to sit for tea," Urahara interrupted, "we are in great need to inform Yamamoto Soutaicho of this most pleasant news."

"Well then it seems like we've had a productive session, don't you think?" quipped Neliel, taking a water bottle from out of nowhere and sipping on it mindlessly. She didn't care that she was interrupting some unusual hollow/shinigami niceties; it was old hat to her.

"Yes," Urahara replied. "Your Majesty, thank you so very much for providing your most noble servants the honor of speaking with you."

"In the name of the Secret Peace, I bid you farewell," Hallibel answered formally. "Mosqueda!"

He echoed into sight. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Please escort them all the way to their destination."

Neliel took this opportunity to put in a request. "Hey, on the way back, can you pick me up two crawlers, a flier, and one of those little lizards out there in the sand? They make a great after-dinner mint."

Gantenbainne turned to Hallibel with a grimace, hoping she would pardon him from this demeaning task. "Does Your Majesty wish for anything?"

She dismissed him kindly but didn't abrogate Neliel's request. Men should know their place in her kingdom. "No, thank you, but I prefer to hunt."

"Ce," he answered politely, annoyed that he was being relegated to making a fast-food run. "Shihoin-no-kimi, Urahara Taicho, please follow me."

"Wait," Tia interrupted. "Yoruichi-san?"

"Yes?"

"...Please send my regards to Hitsugaya Taicho."

"I shall," Yoruichi answered with a polite bow and a pleasant smile.

* * *

_**Reviews, please!** Next chapter: How the NATA got started and other incredible secrets. _


	23. The Beginning of the End

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_"You might arrogantly believe that I am underestimating you. That is not correct. It is merely that no matter how many tricks you have up your sleeve, __my power is so vast _that you are like a gnat believing it can overcome the roaring maw of a lion."  
_~6th division vice captain, Kuchiki Hisako; two hundred years from now_

_"You know, she's really not exaggerating, by the way."_  
_~2nd division vice captain, Shihoin Zarina; supporting her best friend's battle taunts_

_"Okay guys, can the two of you spare the commentary and just kick his ass already? I swear, you guys prattle on longer than it takes for you to kill the damn thing. It's just a class-B hollow - get on with it, already!"_  
_~3rd division vice captain, Shiba Kanchi; frustrated with her cousin's endless pomp and circumstance_

_"Quit laughing, Vojiro-san. This is just way too pathetic to be laughing - and tell your girlfriend over there to stop sticking her tongue out at me!"_  
_~8th division vice captain, Hitsugaya Makahiro; suffering the presence of his female comrades _

_"You look stressed, Makahiro-san. Maybe you should take some time to meditate."_  
_~7th division vice captain, Komamura Kitsune; teasing his best friend for his impatience_

_"And this is is our next-generation elite military force. The famous seven called Death Last Standing. Tch. What a bunch of shitty little brats.__"_  
_~5th division vice captain Hinamori Momo, to the 1st division vice captain, Hitamake Hanzo;  
supervising a routine hunting mission two hundred years from now_

* * *

Omaeda flashed right through the main senkai gate, hurrying as fast as he could to the 4th. Perhaps it was his subconscious hoping that Matsumoto would be indebted to him for saving her and reward him by ravishing him with boobies for an evening; perhaps it was actually out of a sense of obligation. In either case, he was in one of those rare moods in which he was actually competent.

Charging into the infirmary, he found Isane almost immediately. A flurry of activity immediately formed around him as Matsumoto was lifted off his back, robed in an hospital gown, and immediately escorted to a private room.

Isane was visibly shaken. Seeing Matsumoto's entire body stained black with tattooed epithets was disturbing to the utmost. "...Oh my god... what did they do to her?"

"I don't know," Omaeda said. "Soifon Taicho found her. But whatever they did, it wasn't good."

Isane pulled herself together. "We got it from here," she steeled herself. Those bastards! she thought. "Send a hell butterfly to Hitsugaya Taicho, okay?" and before she could even confirm that Omaeda nodded, she had dashed off to diagnose her comrade.

-:-

Harrison was sifting through the shelves until he found the right location. "Let's see... Leonardo, Donatello, Michaelangelo... ah, Raphael!"

Grabbing the sai, he studied the little tag before ripping it off. "What the hell?" he muttered out loud. "Some of these things have some really strange release commands," he sighed. "Alright, here goes: _Cowabunga_."

-:-

Soifon looked up and down the hall. She was immensely frustrated - she wanted to find whoever was in charge and kill them, but she was having trouble finding any clue as to who was behind all this. Intelligence was limited.

Darting into an office, she started rifling through papers. I'm bound to find something eventually, she thought. It didn't take long until Soifon found something of tremendous interest: a map of the compound.

-:-

_Thirty years ago_

There were few things that surprised Aizen Sosuke, but this was one of them.

"Oi, Aizen Taicho," Gin smiled. "Don't see too many of those 'round here."

"It _is_ unusual," he answered. "Let us investigate."

Tousen, Gin, and Aizen made their way over to the most out-of-the-ordinary thing that they had ever seen in Hueco Mundo: a desert oasis. It was small - the pond of glistening water was maybe only ten meters in diameter - but it was surrounded by date and coconut trees. Upon arriving closer, they could clearly see a lush green bedding of vegetation, with one edge containing grapevines and lemon trees, another with rows of corn and even a small rice paddy alongside some lillies floating in the water.

"I sense fish," Tousen commented offhand. "Yellowtail, minnow; tilapia."

"Yer makin' me hungry," Gin moaned.

Aizen thought out loud. "Interesting... you would think more hollows would be attracted here."

"Well, there is some sorta strange kinda pressure floatin' 'round, Aizen Taicho," Gin supplied.

"Yes, there is," Aizen agreed. There was no stench of death and decay here; the grave aura of an abandoned cemetery was absent. It was a stark contrast to the otherwise endless night around them.

When they made it to the edge of the oasis, they found a rather unusual surprise. "Who are you?" Aizen asked.

The tiny, silverish-haired woman with round glasses looked up at him, but said nothing. She was most definitely a shinigami. Her shihakusho was standard issue, and she had a small tanto hung at her side through her obi.

"Answer the question," Tousen intimidated.

The woman did not remove her eyes from Aizen. She said nothing.

"Kaname," Aizen hushed. "You're frightening her. This poor girl has been here all alone. Isn't that correct?"

"Yes," she answered, her tone flat and nondescript.

"It must be very hard living out here in Hueco Mundo all by yourself. I'm sure you miss the sunshine."

"Yes," she answered, in the same tone as before.

Aizen smiled warmly. "Would you like to come with us?"

"Yes," she answered quickly but otherwise without emotion.

"Alright, assemble your things. We are going from here to the human world."

Gin looked at Aizen with a wry smile. "Didn't know that was on our itinerary."

Aizen smiled. "Of course it is," he added politely.

-:-

_Back to the present_

Nanao was looking around for any trace of the survivors. She could feel two humans in the vicinity, but couldn't see anyone. She also didn't sense the reiatsu of Rukia, Soifon, or Omaeda. Nanao's guard was up - she had a sneaking suspicion that the agents were up to something - but wasn't sure what it could be.

And that's when she felt something stab her in the ribs.

Turning around, Nanao surveyed the area. There was no one anywhere, but she was most definitely bleeding. Applying medical kido, she ran another reiatsu scan. Same two humans, but off in the distance.

Another stab, this time in the ankle.

Nanao let loose a roar of pain as she fell over, losing her balance as her bleeding achilles tendon gave way underneath her.

Another stab, in her shoulder.

Another yelp of pain escaped her mouth as Nanao clutched her shoulder. She began a healing spell as she tried to roll out of the way.

This time, she was only grazed - a slice against her other calf muscle. It was followed by another glancing blow to her arm. Nanano scrambled on to her feet, trying to put the weight on her good foot and allowing shunpo to shift her around. She was able to move about fast enough to avoid any other major strikes, but she was getting cuts and scrapes everywhere; each one appearing out of nowhere.

I need to duck and cover! she thought. What the hell is going on?

-:-

_The zanpakutou armory!_ Soifon noted on the map. If she could get in there, she could severly disrupt operations.

Heh heh, Soifon thought as she flickered out on ultra-fast flash steps. Let's see what they can do when they don't have their toys.

-:-

Harrison was trying as hard as he could to concentrate. The sai in his hands, Raphael, had a very powerful ability - just by looking at his enemy, he could aim a strike into the air in front of him, and its telescoped effect would occur at a distance. It was like a voodoo doll without the doll, and it was the best idea he'd had in ages. As long as he could see her, he could cut right through everything. At seven hundred feet away, he was on the third story with a clear beeline to her.

Hey, this thing is even better than a sniper's rifle, he thought. Jenkins is gonna love this.

The Ace of Diamonds was now moving extremely quickly, though, and Harrison was having a tough time keeping locked on to her. Within moments, she had disappeared from sight.

"Oh, crap, where did she go n-"

_THWACK._

_CRASH._

_TINKLE._

**_SPLAT._**

And that was how Harrison 'fell' out of a third-story window.

Soifon smirked. "That felt very rewarding. Now let's see..." she muttered, turning her attention to the rest of the room. "Which one of you is going to help me turn the NATA into a smoking ruin?"

Soifon was amazed at the sheer number of zanpakutou that they had. Some were pretty famous - like the rare sword pair, Colada & Tizona - others were most definitely not. She found one wakizashi named Waterlilly whose special ability turned the wielder into a mermaid, according to the information tag. I guess something like that could be useful, she supposed.

On second thought, let's do this the right way. "Akon, get me an open senkai gate and a massive team of Onmitsukido led by Hana Tsubaki. I want them in here to start carting this stuff back to Soul Society for investigation."

"Roger."

-:-

"Harrison?"

"Harrison?"

"Harrison! ?"

Fuck, Jenkins thought. This is bad.

He turned and headed towards the armory. It was going to take him at least twenty minutes to get there, and he didn't have that kind of time.

-:-

Rukia arrived to see Nanao hiding behind a piece of rubble, healing her injuries with kido. She had numerous ones, a few of them pretty bad. "You alright?" she asked. It was rare when Nanao was ever hurt in the field - she tended to fight long range. She bent down to assist, and turned her head to the shinigami who was following them. "Naga-san, help me here."

"Hai, Fukutaicho."

Nanao didn't bother to ask who the people with Rukia were. "Where are Soifon and Omaeda? Is Matsumoto still here?"

A crackling voice came through over Nanao and Rukia's earpieces. "Omaeda brought Matsumoto in," Akon said over the commlink. "I repeat, we have Matsumoto. Soifon Taicho has found their stash of zanpakutou and is getting them transported to Soul Society as we speak."

Rukia held up her wrist-based commlink microphone to her mouth. "Akon, get us a senkai gate now, we've got others to bring home."

"Roger."

Within a minute or two, Nanao was all healed up and the gate was ready. "Rukia-san, go; I'll support Soifon."

"You're coming," Rukia insisted, grabbing her by the hand.

"What!" Nanao argued. "We can't just leave her here by herself!"

Rukia turned to her best friend with a solemn glance. "Some fights are to defend your life. Others are to defend your pride. Let it be, Nanao-san. She's got a team of Onmitsukido with her, anyway."

Nanao reluctantly nodded. There was no way out of that logic. "Alright, let's go."

-:-

Soifon helped her Covert Ops members get the weapons through the senkai gate as fast as humanly possible. They had all lined up bucket-brigade style and were moving all of the zanpakutou through fairly quickly.

"Taicho," Tsubaki said when they were just about done. "I thought you might want this."

Soifon caught Suzemubachi with a smirk. "Defying Yamamoto's orders, Hana San-Seki?"

"Don't ask, don't tell," Tsubaki smiled back, and then they both said in unison: "That's the way of the Onmitsukido."

Soifon chuckled. "Sorry, but Omaeda didn't die."

Tsubaki laughed at their running gag. After the last of the zanpakutou made it through, she hopped into the gate. "See you soon, Taicho."

-:-

"Jenkins?"

"Hey Boss, you in?"

"Just landed. What's the status?"

"Harrison found a way to pierce the Ace of Diamonds, but went offline. He was in the armory."

"He was in the armory?"

"Yeah, well, he _was_, but I'm just passing by him now on my way there. Looks like he was thrown out the window. Didn't work out so well for him, I can assure you."

Smith swore. "What happened to the Ace?"

"Don't know, Boss. We don't got many survivors 'round here right now."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"Haven't heard from Peterson, Price, or Morgan. No status on Sanders, Alpha, Gamma, or anyone. Can't reach Johnson, Hughes, or Roberts, either."

"Then what the fuck have you been doing out there, Jenkins?"

"Trying not to die, Boss."

Smith slammed his phone shut. _Goddamnit!_

-:-

Jenkins arrived to find the armory empty, and a gate closing behind a small female shinigami in a white haori.

The Two of Spades! Jenkins thought. _SHIT!_ You mean after duking it out with the fucking Ace of Diamonds, I have to fight another one of these cock-sucking captains? Fuck this shit. This operation is over. There's no point.

"Uh, hi," he introduced himself, dropping his sword and phone to the ground and raising his hands in surrender.

She stared him down with a disgruntled, belligerant grimace. "Chicken-shit," she called him. Despite her perfectly native-sounding Japanese, when Soifon spoke English, it came through heavily tainted with a nearly impenetrable Chinese accent. "What makes you think I'll spare you?"

" 'Cause I'm not the one you want," Jenkins said. "I'm just an ex-Navy SEAL looking for a paycheck. I don't got no business fightin' you. We lost, an' I just want to walk away and never bother you again."

"How can you see me?" she demanded.

"Heaven's Will," he answered. "A zanpakutou that allows us to expand the phasing of the 5th dimension, which ties the world of reishi to the material one. Everyone in NATA underwent 'treatment'. Just about everything we use is extended into the 5th dimension, from people to bullets to armor to our vehicles. Well, actually, there's also Yuim. He figured out how to phase stuff without Heaven's Will, but that's how most of our stuff is prepared. We couldn't fight hollows without proper equipment, after all. "

"And where is this zanpakutou?"

"Don't know," he answered, hands still up in the air. "The Boss is the only one who knows for certain. Last I saw it, it was ten years ago in Siberia. But I'm positive it's moved around a lot since then."

"And who is this boss?"

"Commanding Agent John Smith," Jenkins answered. "And he's on his way here from the Lancaster airstrip. He should be here in about twenty minutes. By then, I want to be in a taxi to another state, trying to get on a plane to Tahiti."

"Why did you interfere with shinigami operations?"

"Money."

Soifon's eyes narrowed as she reached to withdraw Suzemubachi. "_Money?_"

"Hey, hey, don't take that thing out, really, I'm not kidding you. Money. If there's a service that someone will pay for, then all you need to do is provide it, and someone will pay for it."

Soifon kept her wakizashi sheathed, but didn't remove her hand from the hilt. "Continue," she suggested.

"There's not much else to say, really. Citizens get attacked by hollows. Almost every world leader knows the truth - gas leaks don't happen that often, you know. But they don't know how to deal with it, so they hire us. That simple. We've been doing business for years, mostly here in the U.S. of A. Lots in Canada, Brazil, Argentina, too. Occasionally, we did some contract work out in Australia, and we had a job in South Africa for a while. No one seemed to notice or complain from your side. We've been expanding ever since."

"How did you get all these zanpakutou, then?"

"Well, to be honest, most of the time, we just picked 'em up off of dead shinigami we found in the field. Some we bought from museums or private collections; I don't know where they got them originally. Then we handed 'em to Subject Alpha, and she would wake 'em up."

" 'Subject Alpha'?"

"Yeah," Jenkins nodded. "I don't know her name or how she did it, but that's the deal."

"And where is she now?"

"Don't know," he answered. "Yer buddies made a rescue attempt. If Alpha was dead or recaptured, I would probably know about it, so I assume she's with you."

Soifon tapped her earpiece. "Confirmed," Akon buzzed in her ear. "Kuchiki Fukutaicho recovered her. But what are you still doing there?"

Fine, she thought, ignoring Akon's question. One less thing to worry about. "Why did you kidnap a shinigami the other day?"

"Hey, I didn't like that plan," he said, waving his hands frantically. "I told Yuim it was a bad idea. That it would bring us all kinds of trouble. He didn't care. Believe me when I tell you it wasn't worth it - look around, you think I got any reason to stay on board with this? That decision was stupid. I don't even know why the Boss let Yuim get away with it."

"You didn't answer my question," she said, although not entirely threatening.

Jenkins sighed. "Well, it's like this. A little bit over a decade ago, some shinigami named Aizen slaughtered the shinigami governing body, Center 43 or something like that."

Soifon's ears perked up. She was careful not to correct him lest she give away information he didn't actually have. But Aizen? How did they know about Aizen? "Go on."

"We managed, with a bit of wrangling and lots of bribing, to plant an agent or two on the inside when they restaffed Center 43," he answered, hands still in the air. "The goal was to get a better understanding on hollows and the shinigami forces. We had very little real information on hollows other than what we had gathered in the field over twenty years or so, and we had nowhere else to get the information."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"No," Jenkins answered, "but it's the truth. Go investigate a guy in Center 43 named Konoshima Subentara. Dig deep and you'll find he's really a phased human. I don't know his partner's name, but there should be at least one other agent in there."

Soifon tapped her ear piece. "We're on it," Akon buzzed. "Now get out of there, Soifon Taicho. The mission is over."

_Your_ mission, maybe, Soifon snorted to herself. "Tell me more," she snapped to the chicken-shit in front of her.

"We got all the information we needed on the basics, but we had no access to the shinigami deployment patterns," Jenkins explained. "Without knowing where the shinigami were stationed, it was hard to find the places where our services were needed. 'Cause like I said, it's all about the money. So we needed to get inside the Gotei 13."

"And you risked kidnapping a lieutenant? That sounds pretty stupid," Soifon retorted.

"...Yes, but not the one you're thinking of," Jenkins admitted. "We started off with some low-level infiltration - we had an agent or two scattered among the lower ranks, impersonating a bunch of nobodies, trying to give us information about a juicy target. Eventually, we settled on the 1st division lieutenant. He was the perfect target: completely bland, boring, unassuming, no friends, no life, and in a position to have just about every piece of information we could ever want, right at his fingertips. So one of our agents - Agent Watson - used a zanpakutou named Doppelganger to impersonate him. So we bagged the first division lieutenant and sent Watson inside on a deep undercover mission."

Akon buzzed in Soifon's ear before she could even put in the request. "Confirmed, Soifon Taicho. He's telling you the truth - Banzo Fukutaicho and Rantao Fukutaicho just made the arrest," he said hurriedly. "Now get out of -"

Soifon switched off her commlink. She had her own agenda. "So why did they kidnap the other lieutenant?"

"The blonde chick?" Jenkins asked. "I swear, I told Yuim that it was a bad idea. I completely disagreed with him. Yuim wanted her for some sort of zanpakutou extraction experiment; I don't know what the fuck he was planning on doing. That guy is seriously fucked up in the head, I swear."

"Where is this Yuim?"

"Don't know," Jenkins sighed, his hands still raised in surrender. "I swear I don't know. For all I know, he might have been killed in that goddamn-I-never-want-to-see-something-like-it-again explosion that fucking Ace of Diamonds pulled off, holy fuck my eyes are still killing me. And believe me, if I saw him, I'd twist his head off like a chicken, 'cause this was a really nice gig while it lasted. Just bought myself a new Porsche, got no idea if I'm gonna be able to drive it now. But I'd drive it right over Yuim's face if I ever got my hands on him."

Soifon was annoyed, but her instinct told her that he was telling the truth. "What do you know about an agent named Anderson?"

"Anderson?" Jenkins asked. "That douche bag who picked a fight with just about every shinigami he met? Shit, what an unprofessional buffoon," Jenkins sneered. "Last I know, some shinigami sent him to Hell. He can rot there for all I care. Dumb fucker."

Soifon was really pissed. She wanted payback for Kotsubaki. "Who hired him? Why did he work for you if he was such an 'unprofessional buffoon,' like you say?"

"That was a call from the Boss," Jenkins answered. "Smith hired him. He thought Anderson had potential to be hot shit. He was really good at killing hollows, especially for a newbie. Smith liked him; said Anderson looked like his brother or some weird shit like that. The rest of us just thought Anderson was a shmuck. But the Boss is a bit sentimental about family. He gets a bit irrational about it."

"Fine," Soifon thought. "Then Smith will eat shit."

"Works for me!" Jenkins took a deep breath and began to sweat. "Hey, look, Captain Sui-Feng -"

"_Soifon_," she corrected bitterly.

"Captain Soifon, excuse me, sorry; no harm intended, ma'am. Look, I've been real helpful here, haven't I? Seriously, I've told you everything you wanted to know. Can I just, maybe, slip outta here like a bat outta hell, and you can duke it out with the Boss when he gets here? 'Cause really, I got shitloads of money that I wanna spend with all of my fingers, toes, and internal organs still functioning."

The second division captain looked at him fiercely. "Consider me divine mercy, human. Get lost."

Jenkins brought his hands together in a polite namaste and bowed hastily. Without another word, he turned and ran.

-:-

Smith swore for the fiftieth time as he dialed Jenkins again. Nobody picked up, just like the other times.

He tried Peterson, Roberts, Morgan, and even Price; but no one answered.

Goddamnit, if any of you are alive somewhere, I'll fucking kill you.

Storming into the armory, Smith was pissed as hell. Almost his entire stock of zanpakutou - over five thousand swords, gathered over the past thirty years - had vanished. The only zanpakutou in the room was Kuroshine on his hip, Jenkin's Yojimbo on the floor (next to Jenkin's discarded cellphone - that fucking bastard), and a wakizashi that was sheathed along the back of a diminutive shinigami captain.

Grinding his teeth, he used his foot to fling Jenkin's abandoned katana into his hands. "Where are my zanpakutou?"

"_Your_ zanpakutou?" Soifon spat with a vicious smirk. "Tch. Such arrogance from a human."

Smith laughed out loud. "Human?" He took immense pleasure in watching Soifon's lips twist downward into a simmering frown. "Who said I was human?"

"Who are you?" the diminutive captain demanded.

"I believe you don't really care who I am," he replied, face filled with mockery. "If I were you, I would be asking 'what', not 'who'."

Smith's sheathed Yojimbo vibrated in his hands as Soifon's wakizashi swung against it in a hypersonic backhanded swoosh. The iron-plated scabbard held true, and to Soifon's surprise, he didn't seem to be exerting any effort to defend against her.

"You shinigami believe you know everything, don't you?"

Soifon lept back to avoid the cross-handed punch aimed at her throat, and watched carefully as Smith withdrew the katana that the previous agent had surrendered. It was a uniquely distinct blade; a deep royal blue. Even from the distance between them, Soifon could tell that the blade was made of brushed platinum; with an unusual crossguard of bright white aluminum and a copper-streaked hilt wrapped in black leather. It was a magnificent weapon, to be sure. "Spare me your pompous idiocy," Soifon said, swinging at him high.

He was quick and went into a traditional samurai stance, giving him good position to defend and then leverage his six-foot frame against the smaller opponent. She kicked him in the knee in response, but his stance held despite the force of the blow. Taking advantage of her expectation that he would crumple, he lifted said leg hard into her groin. It was a maneuver he had practiced over and over with the likelyhood that he would fight men, but it wasn't quite as incapacitating against a female opponent. It hurt - steel-toed boots tend to hurt quite a lot - but Soifon was as made as tough as he was, and their locked stances remained.

She retaliated with a stamp on his metatarsal, but it did no good. His reinforced boots - a prepratory measure he had always taken given his penchance for finding himself in this situation - held firm and the blow didn't land. Smith responded with an equally powerful snap kick to her shin, which shifted her balance just slightly enough for him to hurl her to the side using the force of sheer weight differential.

Soifon recovered quickly, handspringing off the floor and jetting off the wall to make a guillotine strike below his waist. For someone so tall, she knew this would be an awkward position to block, but she wasn't aware of his peculiar instincts. Smith dodged it by unexpectedly falling to the floor, flat on his back, and letting her sail overhead. As Soifon's strike met nothing but air - a completely unanticipated event - he give a vicious kick up into her pelvis again; clearly aiming to strike a weak point more than once.

The blow hurt quite a bit more than before, but worse was that Soifon's trajectory was thrown off course. She was forced to duck and roll without being able to keep up the offensive. It afforded Smith an opportunity to perform a breakdance-like maneuver which rotated his body into an upright position, complimented by the centrifugal force of his blue-bladed zanpakutou aimed at her shoulder.

Swiftly shoving Suzemubachi into position, Soifon's head was spared but the forceful blow knocked her off balance again. Smith immediately turned back around, completely reversing his momentum into a roundhouse coming in the opposite direction. It was expected but the blow broke through her hand block and still landed on her ear; knocking her back the other way and giving Smith an open chance to grind the zanpakutou in a spear-point jab straight into her collarbone.

Soifon screamed as he twisted the blade deep in her collar, and then Smith's punch to the mouth was force enough to pry her free from the end of his blade. "Still think you can deride me, Shinigami Captain?"

The head of the Onmitsukido glared back at him as blood trickled to the floor. She didn't think she was going to need this to deal with a mere human, but she had clearly underestimated him. _"Sting all enemies to death, Suzemubachi,"_ she commanded, releasing her shikai.

Smith laughed. "Ah, breaking out the big guns, eh?"

Soifon wasted no time, flashing behind him and stabbing him as fast as she could in the back - but he read the senka strike and the flat of his blade took the blow instead of his gallbladder.

"Pitiful," Smith laughed, and suddenly elbowed her in the face. Stunned by his speed, Soifon's chin took it hard, and Smith turned around and give her a fierce punt right in the pelvis - again. This time, she could feel it in her liver. A headbutt followed, and her vision hazed in a stormy rage of black; and then the iron-plated scabbard his sword had been housed in swung up in a massively painful strike in between her legs - _again_.

Then he punched her in the face, and kneed her in the groin _again_. Grabbing her by the hair, Smith smashed her face into a wall, and then scraped it back and forth in a violent, vicious manner. Satisfied that he had shreddded her face something good and painful, he flipped her back around and swung Yojimbo's scabbard into her pelvis - _twice._

Satsified that he had completely abused her, he hurled her across the room and laughed. "You think I'm arrogant?" he taunted. "What useless drivel from someone who thinks they could kill me so easily. I've been fighting hollows for thirty years, I'm a lot more prepared for you than you think!"

Soifon got up to her feet. Despite the beating she had taken, she was actually okay. It wasn't like Smith hit her with reiatsu-infused blows. His ability to hit phased matter was surprisingly strong, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as if he had been completely spiritual matter. "What are you?"

"What a stupid question," Smith demanded. "As if you don't know the answer."

Soifon instinctively sent out a reiatsu scan, with a hunch that he would have a red spirit ribbon instead of a white one. But she didn't find either, and she involuntarily let loose an involuntary gasp. "You're a-"

"_Quincy_," he grimaced mockingly.

* * *

_**Reviews, please!** Some of you have really been skimping on the reviews - c'mon, I really want to hear from you. What do you think of the revelations in this chapter? Next chapter: Who is John Smith?_


	24. The Seduction, Part I

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note:** Sorry this chapter took some time to get up - real life has been busy, and it needed a lot of tweaking and last-minute revisions. Hope you enjoy._

___**Translator's note: ** The literal translation of 'katana' is a sword with only one sharp edge; what most view as a samurai sword. A 'tsurugi' is technically defined as a double-edged sword; sort of like a Japanese broadsword. Despite these technical translations, though, the terms are often used interchangeably._  


* * *

_"You wretched little thing. I should just drown you. Look at you, you pathetic miscreant. Standing there, ignoring me! Such hideous lack of manners. I am your elder, and you should answer me, you awful little piece of rotting flesh. Why, your father thinks you can march in here and that we'll just generously take you in? As though we, in our great Family, are no better than an orphanage? Such insult. Now maybe if you spread your legs a little and gave my son something else to think about, you would be worth something. Do you even understand the words coming out of my mouth, or are you as stupid as you are impertinent? Answer me, you dumb wretch! No? Fine, then. Your father will regret this, I swear of it - but not as much as you will, you thick-headed runt! Are you even listening to me? Ugh, you mindless wench. You are worth less than nothing. You will never mean anything to this family - not to me and not to my son! Are you even listening to me? !"_

_~ Lady Naga Yurina, of a century long past_

* * *

_"Family is never defined by blood, Re-chan. After all, do you have a father?"_

_She thought about this one. "He's out there somewhe-" and then paused. "...No, I guess not."_

_"Do you have any uncles?"_

_"...No - why?"_

_"Do you have any aunts?"_

_"N-" she started, but then little Retsu stopped. She was beginning to understand. "Yes, Mama, I guess I do."_

_"Aha, Re-chan. And do you have any sisters?"_

_"...I guess I do," she admitted, although none were her age. They had all grown up and moved out of the house, either staying in the family business or moving on to other endeavors. The little girl wondered if she would stay in the family business, too; although she wasn't even sure if she would ever like boys; so that would make it somewhat difficult._

_"Ah, Re-chan, but you are wrong. It wouldn't be fair of you to call them sisters, would they?"_

_Her mind scrunched in thought. "...Maybe cousins?"_

_"Yes, maybe perhaps cousins," __her mother laughed. _"That was very clever of you, Re-chan. You're a brilliant little girl."

_Retsu bowed in gratitude for the compliment._

_"What is it, Re-chan?" the old woman asked. She was sharp and insightful, and although her daughter was an optimistic, positive-minded child, she could still deduce the confusion and darkness in her daughter's silence. It was hard for any child to grow up in these parts, and it was only normal that she feel the imposing realities of the life she was born into._

_"...Do you think I'll ever meet my father?"_

_Retsu's mother began to laugh with gusto. "I'll tell you this, Re-chan," she managed to get out. "With reiatsu like yours, there's no doubt. I'm sure you'll spend plenty of time with him. Enough that maybe even one day, he'll let you call him Papa, even if you don't want to."_

_The child absorbed this information carefully. She didn't really understand it completely, but she got the gist of it: family was what you make of it. It was defined by the time and place. It was about people. But that was too amorphous for her; she wasn't content to leave it at that. She needed to box it, to digest it, to wrap her hands around it and understand it. It was the kind of inquisitive mind she had. "Mama - so then, if you had to, how would you define family?"_

_"Simple," she answered. "Family are the people that drop everything when you're in trouble. They are the people that when they die, a part of you has died; and when you ultimately pass on, a part of them has passed on, too. Family are the people who you think about first, last, and in between. The definition of family is simple: anyone who you feel is a part of you. That is family."_

_Retsu nodded. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that the impressionable young girl would be shaped by her mother's wisdom. Despite her mother's profession - or maybe even because of it - there was certainly an abundance of wisdom to be found here. And there wasn't a single soul in all of the Rukongai or Sereitei who didn't know it._

_~A conversation between Unohana Huchikachi and her daughter, about nine centuries ago_

* * *

_Thirty Years Ago_

"Rantao-san!"

"One minute, Gilgamesh," she said. "I'm calibrating the resonance amplicorometer at the moment, and-"

"Rantao-san!" her tiny assistant squeaked. "No, you have to go right now! There are four shinigami here to see you, and three of them are wearing haoris!"

_"What?"_

"Hurry!"

Rantao dropped what she was doing and readjusted her lab coat. At the Division 12 Soul Resonance Lab in the area known as the United States' Area 59 (not to be confused with the very fictional Area 51), Rantao Kiku was the highest ranking official, despite being merely 14th Seat. They had already been here for over a century and yet to receive a visitor - and now they had three captains come in! She wondered if one of them was her own captain; Kurotsuchi Mayuri, whom she had yet to meet. Rantao had departed for the SR lab under the blessing of Captain Hikifune Kirio, but she had since retired and Rantao had yet to return to Soul Society. She couldn't even remember the name of the captain between Hikifune Taicho and Kurotsuchi; much less know what he even looked like.

Not that she was eager to go back, of course. Rantao liked it here; stuck in the lab with all of her labrat and technogeak friends. They were an informal, pleasant bunch that were already close before they had all come here together. Only Krembo and Gilhooly had joined them after the initial founding of the lab, but those two had already been here for about ninety years. This lab was the success story that had supposedly been the reason that the 12th Division Technical Institute was even able to get the funding it needed to get off the ground. No one wanted to leave the real thing for the copycats back home, so they all stayed. Besides, it was hard to find a good greasy American cheeseburger back in Soul Society.

I really hope everything's okay, Rantao thought as she smoothed out her lab coat.

_It is most certainly unusual, Madamoiselle._

Kiku put her hand on Occulus Omnispectivus's hilt. Why would three captains want to come _here_?

_I can't pretend to imagine._

Rantao finally exited through the last security gate, and Gilgamesh led her down the hallway to the meeting room. Smoothing out her chestnut locks in a last-ditch effort to make sure she was presentable, Rantao Kiku took a deep breath as she opened the door and walked in, not quite sure what to expect. Gilgamesh followed, knowing enough to play the part of second-in-charge, despite her rank being not much higher than a simple messenger girl.

Her esteemed guests were interesting indeed. The most prominent one was a tall man with glasses and gentle features; his toussled hair a very similar color to her own. On one side stood a rather creepy man with silver hair, perennially closed eyes and a insincere smile plastered on his face. The last was a rather serious, dark-skinned man with dark glasses; Rantao assumed he was blind given his disinclination to focus on anything in particular.

The fourth guest, the only female, was not wearing a haori. She was a petite, slender woman with purplish hair that showed many streaks of gray, as though she had been unnaturally aged. She was staring at Rantao with a deep, penetrating gaze interrupted only by random blinking. Save those intermittent motions of her eyelids, she was perfectly still.

Rantao fumbled for a moment as she tried to remember her protocol. Bowing deeply, she introduced herself. "I am the 12th Division 14th Seat, Rantao Kiku. I am responsible for this research facility. For what reasons do I have the honor of hosting the great leaders of the Gotei 13?" It was only after she spoke that she realized she had spoken in English rather than the traditional Japanese used in Soul Society. Gosh, I'm screwing up already.

"5th Division Captain, Aizen Sousuke," the gentle man introduced himself, speaking in perfect American English with no hint of an accent. "I understand this research facility is considered one of the most advanced technological outposts that we have here in the World of the Living."

Kiku nodded, and then wondered if she should switch into Japanese or not. "Yes," she acknowledged, but staying in English.

"I've heard that you do lots of research here about the effects of the World of the Living on spirit particles."

"...Yes, of course," Rantao hesitated. "We do study the effects of 5th dimensional phasing, but our current focus is with soul resonance and its effects on the environment. Uh, perhaps you would like to sit down? Maybe some coff-" _wait, they do tea over coffee, right? _"-uh, or tea?"

The bespectacled captain smiled politely. "Of course. Gin Taicho, Tousen Taicho - do you care for tea?"

"With persimmon, if ya have it," Gin answered in Japanese with a mischievous grin, as though he already knew that they wouldn't have some on hand.

"Uh, we'll see what we can do," Rantao nodded, a bit thrown. She gestured to Gilgamesh, who wrote the request down on a small notepad.

"I will have black tea, strong, no sugar," Tousen commented, although staying in English. "As will she," he added, gesturing to the small woman.

"How da you know what she wants?" Gin asked him with a smirk.

"We are of the same kind," Kaname answered.

"Tch," Gin muttered. "You hear that, Aizen Taicho? Kaname-kun and Shinigami-chan are of the same kind." Tousen ignored the blatant disrespect, deciding that now was not the time for posturing.

Rantao was a bit befuddled at this point. "Uh, two black teas, then?"

"Yes," the female guest answered robotically. Gin made some kind of sarcastic snort in response, annoyed that Tousen had actually guessed her preference.

"And I will take whatever tea you customarily drink, Rantao-san," Aizen smiled.

"Alright, then," Kiku stumbled. "Renee, two vanilla teas with cinnamon, please, if you will?" she asked, hoping that this would be okay for the handsome man in front of her.

"That would be delicious," Aizen added. The '_sh'_ sound in the word _delicious_ rolled around in Kiku's head like an aphrodisiac. Delicious indeed.

Gilgamesh nodded and darted off with the order in hand. Rantao, now without another member of the lab, suddenly felt incredibly awkward playing hostess by herself.

Aizen smiled as soon as the tiny shinigami assistant left. "I've come to ask a favor on behalf of our charge over here," he said, gesturing to the petite woman that had accompanied them. "You are one of the few individuals who may be able to help me."

_My, what a flatterer, Mademoiselle. He has quite a smile._

And my chance of getting him to stick around for dinner and a movie is nil, so hush. "At your service, Captain Aizen." Oh, fruitcakes. I probably should have called him Aizen Taicho. That whole Japanese honorific thing.

Aizen's smile widened and he stepped closer. Much closer. As in, heart-palpitatingly close.

_Maybe he's not interested in dinner and a movie, Mon Cherie._

Kiku's heartbeat was pounding in her chest, her eyes fixated on the captain's lips as sound began to flow forth. "I need something, perhaps one might say... _illicit_," Aizen said barely above a whisper, his melodious voice making Kiku's heart shake aflutter as the butterflies began to wriggle and squirm in her stomach.

_Eh, Belle Femme, you hear that? **Illicit**, he says._

Stop it! Rantao swallowed her nervousness and absentmindedly adjusted a loose strand of hair. "Ah, Aizen-sama," she said nervously, barely remembering the proper suffix. "What is it that I might be able to help you with?"

Aizen opened up the space between them as he gestured to their more junior companion. "As you know, it's forbidden for shinigami to seek out those on Earth that they may have known during their previous lifetimes. But we also know it's not an uncommon occurrence. We captains generally overlook these trivial infractions, as we have so many more important matters to intend to, as I'm sure you know."

Kiku was melting under his intense gaze and luscious smile. Okay, this guy is most definitely seducing me.

_And you're complaining, Mademoiselle?_

Not really. "O-o-of course," she stumbled.

"I have heard from numerous sources that there are some talented shinigami here who could help me locate this young woman's family."

Where did you hear _that_ from? Rantao wondered. We haven't had anyone pass through here in ages. I'm surprised the Gotei 13 even remembers we're here, she thought. They probably figured it was a good place to dump us loser misfits so that they wouldn't have to be bothered with us. On top of that, Rantao's zanpakutou wasn't exactly famous - and she kind of liked it that way.

_True, Mademoiselle - but he's a captain. He probably has access to all kinds of records. _

I suppose, Rantao thought. Returning her attention to the succulent man in front of her, Rantao tried to refocus. "Uh, we can try our best to help you."

Aizen handed her a piece of paper and then whispered in her ear. "I'm _very_ sure you would be able to help me," he said, his sultry voice sending a shiver down her spine.

"I'd be more than happy to help," Rantao smiled bashfully before she even looked at it.

"I'm sure you would be able to satisfy my... _request_," he said pointedly, pausing before his last word with certain innuendo. "It's an unconventional form of assistance."

Rantao's mouth was watering at this point. So was something else. "...I-"

"Why don't you take a look at that?" the charming captain suggested before she could stammer out anything else.

Kiku swallowed nervously and unfolded the piece of paper, and as soon as her eyes scanned over it, she shifted gears. "This... is definitely unusual." And not just because he had chosen to write his request in ancient Coptic.

Aizen didn't seem to be concerned by her shift in tone. "Exactly. Do you think that is something you would be able to help me with?"

"I... I thought you said you were looking for her family," Kiku answered. "Someone she knew from a previous lifetime. This... this isn't necessarily going to do that."

"So then I can infer from your concern that you can indeed help me," Aizen smiled smoothly.

"...Yes, I- excuse me, uh, we have the facilities here to do that, but-"

Aizen put a finger to her mouth to silence her. The touch made Kiku quiver in delight.

_Lick it! _Occulus suggested. _C'mon, Bella Femme, go all out!_

Rantao ignored her zanpakutou for the moment as she tried to listen to the captain's interruption: "In her case, family is... not limited to the standard interpretation, shall we say." Rantao tried to follow but was too starry-eyed to fully absorb his words until he removed his finger from its perch upon her lips.

"Uh-"

"Sousuke," he said quietly. "Please, call me Sousuke." His sound and smell together were intoxicating.

_Hey Mademoiselle, how about we scream that name underneath some silk sheets?_

Not now, Occulus. Later. When I'm in the shower.

_With him?_

If I can swing it, but if you keep interrupting me, I'm going to screw this up.

_Screwing would be good, Mademoiselle._

Heavens to Betsy, Occulus! I have a job to do here, you know!

_A bl-_

NOT THAT KIND OF JOB. Now quiet before I lose my focus.

Rantao leaned back just a touch - just enough to think straight but definitely not enough to escape his musky aroma. "Uh, yes, Sousuke, uh, -san, er, -sama, I mean, how is, uh, a visit to someone she might have known is one thing, but is this what she's really looking for? She may have never met them before. I mean, how long does she plan on staying there before she goes back to Soul Society?"

"At the rate we're goin', it looks like we'll all be here fer at least half a decade," Gin cracked, actually sounding annoyed. "Hey, Aizen Taicho, are we gonna get Shinigami-chan to where she needs to go? And I thought we were gonna get somethin' ta drink, ne?"

Rantao clumsily stepped away from Aizen, bumping into the conference table. "Uh, yes, let me just call Gil-"

"I'm here!" came a squeaky little voice from the door. Gilgamesh pushed a little tea cart through. "I'm sorry, Mr. Taicho Sir, we don't have any persimmon."

"Too bad," he smiled deviously. "I guess we'll just have to tell the Soutaicho to shut off yer fundin' an' close up shop, seein' as how ya don't have anything really important here."

"Please ignore Gin," Aizen said, glaring at his second-in-command. "His sense of humor can be hard to discern."

"Renee, did you check the kitchen in the men's dorm?" Kiku asked, knowing full well that there was no such thing. The dorms were co-ed.

Gilgamesh looked at her commanding officer a bit funny. "Uh, Rantao-san -"

"Go check the men's dorms, Renee," she suggested. Praise Eternal, Gilgamesh actually took the hint this time, and left hurriedly. "Um, excuse me, Ai-"

"Sousuke," he corrected, finding himself in her personal space again. Rantao imagined him ripping her clothes off. If it wasn't for the fact that there were three other people in the room, she might have done it for him.

"...Sousuke-san," she said tentatively. "Uh, is... is this all you need?"

His smile made Rantao twitch in all the right ways. "Well, I don't know how long this will take you, but if there's enough time, I'm sure you could help me with... _something else._"

_I hope he's thinking what I'm thinking, Mon Cherie._

Rantao was sweating. "Ah, one moment, then; I'll be right back. This... shouldn't take long. And... and I'm sure you're all very tired from your, ah, journey... Uh, perhaps I could have Gilgamesh find you some rooms to, uh, rest, if you want?"

"Of course," he said kindly. "If it's not too much trouble, I'm sure we would be _thrilled_ to accept your hospitality," he added, and Rantao made a quick exit before she lost her composure right then and there.

Shutting the door behind her, Kiku took a moment to let her chest stop pounding.

_It's been a while, hasn't it, Mon Cherie?_

Kiku sighed. This was only going to take a couple of minutes, but she hoped she could concentrate long enough to get it out of the way.

Deciding that releasing her shikai out here was a bad idea, she took the elevator down to the underground vault. Some things were better kept private.

-:-

"Hey, Aizen Taicho," Gin smirked after the Rantao left the research facility's conference room. "You sure were naughty for stringing her along."

Aizen looked towards the door where Kiku had just exited. "And who said I was being insincere?" Aizen smirked, and indeed there actually was a strong undertone of sincerity in her voice. "She is a very attractive woman, after all."

"Taicho," Gin smiled even wider. "Since when did you ever consider romantic escapades?"

"'Romantic escapades'?" Aizen asked. "Never."

"Ah," Gin laughed. "Romance implies that ya might actually care 'bout 'em when yer done bangin' 'em."

"Gin," Aizen rebuked. "You shouldn't be saying such things in front of our guest of honor." He then looked back at the petite woman who was standing closely behind Tousen. "She seems to have found an affinity for you," Aizen commented nonchalantly.

"She is a pure being," Kaname said heavily. "It is only logical that she would be drawn to other pure beings."

"How very esoteric of ya," Gin smiled, as though he ever did anything else. Turning to Aizen, Gin mumbled, "He sure does repeat that useless shit a lot, eh?"

Aizen merely gave his subordinate a sideways smile. Tousen was Tousen, after all. "I think we should take up her offer and stay the night here, don't you think?"

Gin did a doubletake. "Really, Aizen Taicho?"

"Why not?"

"'Snot like you to be dabblin' in women," Gin supplied.

Aizen shrugged. "Every man has his weakness," he replied, the intendre clear enough.

Gin ignored the overt hint to Rangiku, taking the opportunity to return a friendly jab. "Professin' a weakness ain't somethin' I ever thought I'd hear ya cough up, Aizen Taicho."

The fifth division captain gave his former lieutenant an unmistakable stare of intolerance, but inwardly sighed. It was hard work being a power-hungry, subterfuging, conniving backstabber that planned on becoming the god over all gods. It had been ages since he'd had any opportunity to relax. And there was something about Rantao Kiku that made him yearn for a minor vacation. Yes, a night off would not be a bad idea. "She must be Canadian, you know."

Gin wondered what was going on in that head of his. "Aizen Taicho is a master linguist today, ne? Readin' accents like a world traveler."

"Anything to distract me from your constant Kansai tongue."

"Oi, ya makin' fun o' me now, eh?"

Aizen sighed again, although he allowed a smile to return to his face. "Just a light banter to keep the journey lively."

"Why we bringin' this little lady along with us, anyway?"

"This is not the right time or place to discuss it, Gin."

"Tch," Gin muttered. "I don't get it. I know we were supposed ta be lookin' for ancient monsters, but I wasn't expectin' ta come diggin' 'round the real world. All-of-a-sudden, now we're looking to take Shinigami-chan to go meet some hollow too lame to come to Hueco Mundo?"

"We are not taking her on a search for hollow, Gin," Aizen corrected. "We have other matters here."

"Like hangin' around while some woman rides ya like a pony? C'mon, Aizen Taicho, whatta we need to do this for?"

The traitorous triumvirate's top tactictian temporarily halted. "Do you doubt my plans, Gin?"

" 'Course not," Ichimaru chuckled. "But do I really need to be here fer this?" Gin wondered, sounding truly agitated for a change. "Three cap'ns is a bit much to be draggin' 'round a shinigami who can't even tell us 'er name. I could be pullin' Izuru-kun 'round fer fun instead."

Aizen wasn't thrilled, but acquiesced. The only reason he had Gin come along at all was because Tousen made for terrible conversation. "By all means, return if you must."

"Arigato, Aizen Taicho," Gin smirked, and opened up a senkai gate to return to Soul Society.

It was at that point that Tousen failed his master. The petite shinigami woman bolted into immediate action, darting forth towards the doors. Kaname's grip barely caught her on the shoulder of her uniform, and she was halted forward, squawking a petite gasp of surprise.

But Tousen Kaname soon found himself in a predicament. Mold and fungus that began to tingle up his arm, rotting it with an acrid, acidic stench; Tousen was unable to stop her from jamming a small pocketknife in his hand. He was forced to let go, but by then Gin had blocked access to the senkai gate. At this point, the lavender-haired woman didn't seem to budge.

"Everyone," Aizen chided like a nursery school teacher whose class had become a bit unruly. "This is no way to behave in someone else's house," he said, speaking to the woman.

She looked to Aizen and stared. Beyond that, she said nothing.

"You didn't like that he touched you, did you?" Aizen asked.

"No," she answered, although her voice was soft; as though she knew she was in a lot of trouble.

Aizen continued the conversation as he applied simple medical kido to Tousen's acid-induced burn. "You want to go home, don't you? You thought it was time to go, and you were eager to get on your way, weren't you?"

"Yes," she answered clearly.

Aizen took a gamble, hoping by now that he had correctly identified her. The pocketknife was an almost certain giveaway, and that she had released her tanto into shikai wordlessly was a certain sign that she was gifted enough to be who he suspected. He tried to remember the files he had read; she had to be a very, very old shinigami; much older than her appearance indicated. "Do you think Lady Yurina would be happy to see you?" he said, hoping he had correctly played upon her fears. Not that Naga Yurina is alive anymore, Aizen thought, but I doubt she knows that.

She was quiet for three seconds before responding. "No."

_Excellent,_ Aizen thought. His hunch had been correct. The zanpakutou that hadn't been seen in hundreds of years, because it was still alive, despite all odds. It was confirmed. What he saw in Hueco Mundo had been exactly as he suspected.

Genesis.

"Gin," Aizen commanded, "please don't sour our guest's feelings anymore with talk of returning to Soul Society. It is insensitive. And besides," he continued after pausing to take a breath, "I am sure you remember that it is equally insensitive to deny our hostess the opportunity to provide us some hospitality."

Gin shook his head, allowing a frown to surface. What a trip this was turning out to be; sheesh. "Yer gettin' more interestin' every day, Aizen Taicho."

-:-

_Some number of moments prior to the present_

It was a day he would never forget. It dwelled in his mind as the small plane hummed through the air; the ice clinking in his glass. It was fitting that he remembered it now, vividly and colorfully; as though he was watching it play back in on an HD TV with surround sound. He wondered if that was a good omen, or a bad omen. Possibly neither. He didn't know how he felt at all - should he be grieving? Should he be relieved? It was hard to say. He had always been emotional, even if he hid it. Sometimes he disguised it well, other times not. But today was not a typical day in the office. Today was life-changing.

Today, he was alone.

It was a hard feeling to reconcile with history. It wasn't as though he didn't know grief - he was familiar with it. His parents had both died over a decade ago, one after the other; his mother succumbing to cancer and his father a victim of influenza. Yes, influenza. Those numbers weren't just numbers; his father was one of those who really didn't make it through the yearly spread of flu. His sisters, brave women who had both signed up with the army, had both fallen in the line of duty; one in Iraq, the other in Afghanistan. He had been proud of both of them, and had attended their military funerals and witnessed their posthumous reward ceremonies. And his brother, his only brother, whom he had been so close with during his short life, had been killed in a tragic car accident. So he was no stranger to grief and mourning.

But for some reason, as he recalled that day thirty years ago, he didn't feel grief; although he may have felt loss. It wasn't really clear; unlike the memories that preoccupied him as the plane began to descend.

_Walking into my room. Seeing her there, sleeping on my bed._

I suppose most people would say it was a life-changing event, he thought. I wonder if that was ever true. I wonder if it changed my life, or if my life was simply destined to be defined by it. I guess I'll never know.

_"Mom! Who is this in here?"_

_"What do you mean, John?" his mother asked, poking her head through the door for a moment. "There's no one here."_

Most people would wonder if they were losing their sanity. It's a hard thing to digest, when you realize you are seeing spirits and all. He was sure his mother thought he was crazy, given all the moments she caught him talking to those 'invisible friends' over the years. Although, there was always the possibility that she could see them too; and she just never let on. It was the kind of thing his mother might have done.

_"Don't be alarmed," I had heard behind me. A man with the mussed hair and boxy glasses, the smile of a noble benefactor._

Which, of course, was bullshit. Not that I care. Bullshit appearances are everywhere. What appears to be a fifteen year-old girl can actually be an eight-hundred year-old ghost.

_"Who are you? Who is this?" I asked, pointing to the girl prone on my bed, her tiny chest rising and falling as she breathed._

Did I first start seeing spirits that day? Or could I always see them, and just never had the chance to? I don't know.

_"I am a shinigami," he answered. "As is she. She needs someone to care for her."_

I remember how I didn't understand why he had designated me for this task. He would come to explain it, but I remember how bizarre I thought he was for suggesting such a thing at the time. As if I was some great revolutionary or genius. I was only seventeen.

_"A shinigami?" I asked, incredulous. "Escorter of the dead to the afterlife?"_

_"Yes," he confirmed, impressed that I knew what such a thing was. "As you say."_

I never saw him after that day, but I'll never forget how he introduced himself.

_"My name is Captain Aizen Sousuke. But you can know me as the man who will become God."_

Why did I believe him so easily? Was it the way he carried himself? Or was it that I could barely breathe in his presence?

_"Why are you here? What is it that a god would want with me?"_

_"The afterlife is a complicated place, John Smith. But you can see us, and so you can influence it."_

As if I care about that now. Who cares about the afterlife while they're alive? Why would I want to change what happens when I die, when I can change what happens while I am alive?

_"This woman contains unspeakable power. She can make you young for a hundred years. She can cause and cure disease, ravage or grow crops, and awaken great weapons of power - like this one."_

Heaven's Will. The first zanpakutou I ever received. How insane that man must have been to give a teenager a sword.

If you could call it a sword, I guess.

_"I don't understand. What if I say no?"_

_"Then I kill you, your parents, your brother and sisters, your grandparents, and your friends."_

I remember how disturbing it was to hear such a heartless thing from a man who seemed so gentle. Maybe that's why I became a heartless bastard.

No, that's not why. It wasn't that disturbing circumstance that the shinigami gave me that made me who I am. I'm a heartless bastard, but not because of what the shinigami did. Rather, because of what they didn't do.

_"Not much of a choice."_

_"It is for her sake," the man named Aizen said._

It was only later, when I learned a bit of Japanese, that I realized Aizen was actually his surname.

_"I don't even know this woman's name," he admitted._

It was such an odd thing to hear, I remember. How he cared about someone even though he didn't know her name.

I should have known he was an asshole right then and there. I mean, I guess I already knew he was an asshole. But when he said this, I knew he was _really_ an asshole. Because otherwise, if he really did care, he would have learned her name.

Although it took me three weeks. Maybe he didn't have that kind of time. Still, if you care, you find out their name. That's just obvious.

_"But the afterlife she found herself in is not the place for her."_

_"What do you mean? Did she... did she go to Hell?"_

I remember the way he paused. The hesitation in his voice. I would later come to understand why; the differences in the dimensions. Soul Society, Earth. The Dangai Precipice World. And the difference between Hueco Mundo and Hell.

_"I guess you could say that," he answered with a kind smile. "But she was not deserving."_

_"And what makes you say that?" I sneered._

Had I been wiser, I would not have responded with such ignorance; such flippancy; such disdain for the world. I would have been less cynical; for her. For her, who I would spend years of my life coaxing out the details of her life from her repressed soul. I may be a heartless bastard who used her for my own ends, but I love and respect her. Yes, she gave me wisdom, power, authority; a means to fulfill a purpose. I used her for all those things. But she has been my family for thirty years.

Cynic that I am, I should not have condemned her with my skepticism before I heard Aizen's response. I know better, and I knew better back then, too.

I remember how it happened; how he reached out to my neck and ripped off the upside-down cross I wore around my neck. I wonder if he even knew what it meant; that I had no affinity for religion at all. But it was that soul-penetrating question that would shape my life; make me care for those before and beyond the black butterfly gates.

_My cross gripped in his hand, held before my eyes, Aizen's words seized my sympathy: "Is that a befitting fate for those who have autism?"_

It was clear then, I remember. Why he chose me. Why I had to accept, and why nothing would ever be the same again. That was when I began to understand.

_"Trevor..." I whispered._

_"...Your brother," Aizen asked. "He is also autistic, is he not? Does he deserve to be cast into Hell for sins he could not possibly understand?"_

I was speechless then. I couldn't imagine it. Truth be told, if Aizen asked me that now, I would probably still be speechless.

_"The afterlife is not all that you may believe it to be. This poor girl will never be understood by anyone in the life to come. They took advantage of her. Banished her and blamed her for crimes she didn't commit. Things she couldn't commit. They made her a scapegoat; they ruined her."_

_I swallowed hard. "...Is that what you call heaven?"_

Such naivete I had back then, despite my cynicism.

_"It may not be heaven, but it is the only alternative to Hell," he answered. "They victimized her. She deserves better - someone who understands her. A place where she will be treated like a soul rather than an animal. You can see her, and you deal with her condition every day. You know what she needs, better than me or anyone else. You can protect her, and in turn, she can protect you."_

Yes, she can protect me. She has. Many times. And I've protected her. Because that's what brothers do. They protect. From all kinds of people and things.

From you, Aizen. I protected her from you.

Because you were just like everyone else. You wanted to use her.

At least I was better than you, Aizen. Sure; I used her, too. But at least I loved her. Just as much as my older sisters. I took care of her and made sure she was okay. I didn't always do the best job, but at least I was better than you, Aizen.

_"You can see us, and as I said before, you can influence it," he continued. "Save this one life, and she will serve you well. She has no one else to turn to."_

_"And is that why you want to become God? To fix the wrongs of your so-called heaven?"_

_The shinigami before me smiled. "Job 38:11," he answered. "'Until here you may come - but no further.'"_

It was exasperating at the time, but I came to realize that he had a point. Gods have their own reasons I can't hope to understand. And to be fair, it made no difference to me. What Aizen did, and what he hoped to accomplish, was beyond my concern back then.

Who cared if I would later realize the truth. That Aizen wanted insurance. That one day, he hoped Toki could bring him back from the dead. That he knew his dead zanpakutou would be recovered by Central 46, and that our men on the inside could get it back to us. That I would wake up his Kyouka Suigetsu.

But I had the last laugh. Toki had never wanted to master bankai. She would never be able to resurrect a person from the dead, no matter how many zanpakutou she could revive.

Because I knew that I couldn't trust you, Aizen. If you could come back from the dead, then I could never protect her from you. You would keep going and going until you had destroyed us all. Brothers protect their little sisters. Toki would never bring anyone back from the dead. Not you, and not anyone else. I always forbade it. Q might have wanted to, but he knew better. Otherwise, he would meet my zanpakutou up close and personal. That was clear.

No, Aizen. No. I'm not like you. I'm not like you at all.

_"How did you find me?"_

_"A nice lady friend of mine helped me," he commented amusingly. "She's very good at sifting through the universe to find precisely what you're looking for. And what I needed, John Smith, was someone who could both see and understand how to take care of my fellow shinigami. Someone who understood autism and could see spirits - a rather difficult set of criteria to find, I might add, but here we are in your room. So, do we have a deal?"_

It was so clear how sinister he was back then. As if I had a deal. He was going to slaughter all of us if I didn't agree to his request. I may have been a cynic, but I was no fool.

_"I'll try."_

That was the day it all began. But now... now, there is nothing left but me. Toki was no longer mine - no longer mine to provide me the means nor the reminder of purpose. No longer in my domain to serve as that true reminder of who I am and what I do.

I was an emissary to the gifted once. But now -

Now, I am a brother no more.

I guess Job was right. Just as the lord gives, so he taketh away.

-:-

_Back to the present_

"A quincy!"

"I suppose you could call me that," Smith said dismissively. "Although the affiliation is merely genetic."

Soifon tried to digest the implications. "I thought that ryoka boy was the last Quincy?"

Smith's eyebrows ascended in a look of complete disinterest. "I wouldn't know. Supposedly many left the Quincy communes when the shinigami came after us, and then mixed in with the humans. Most assimilated, seven of my eight great-grandparents included."

"So you're out for revenge," Soifon sneered.

"Silly little shinigami," Smith laughed. "You assume I give a fuck about old arguments."

"So then what are your motivations? Money? How sad."

_"You petty piece of shit!"_ he exploded. _"I will not be judged by a sniveling captain of the afterlife!"_ His face turned dark with furious rage as his hands tightened around the zanpakutou that Jenkins had abandoned. _"House of a thousand blades, Yojimbo."_

-:-

Hinamori returned to Soul Society just in time to receive a hell butterfly. She listened to the message, and a spark of hope returned. She was so eager to hurry that she even skipped a smoke break.

Rangiku-san, she thought. I hope you're okay.

-:-

"Toki, are you alright?" Kyon asked me. We were waiting for Kuchiki Fukutaicho to finish her initial report, and then she was going to take us somewhere.

"No," I answered. Of course not. I was simultaneously elated and distressed. On the one hand, I was finally in my home dimension; I haven't been here for Jen knows how long.

_At least six hundred years,_ she answered, which was surprising. She didn't like to talk anymore than I did.

On the other hand, I never got a chance to say goodbye to John. And I likely never will.

This whole mess is my fault. It was a terrible promise to make, wasn't it?

_Don't do this,_ Jen told me. _Don't torture yourself all over again._

I looked down to my small pocketknife, looking at the small insignia inscribed on the northern flat side of the handle. I was ashamed of that insignia. It was my duty. My duty as a shinigami. The duty that supersedes everything else. The obligation that I adhere to, so much that I even force myself to talk, no matter how much I hate it. But I failed that duty with that promise I made.

Don't ever leave me, he had asked. I had loved him, but not enough. If I had loved him properly, I would have never agreed to that. But I failed, both in love and in duty.

I should have done the konso myself.

-:-

The hell butterfly landed on Ichihime's shoulder on her way back from the 6th division lockup. It was from Kuchiki Taicho. Her eyes went wide as she received the encoded message:

_Confidential: Central 46 is compromised. To my office; immediately._

Ichihime fired shunpo on all cylinders. This was very, very bad.

-:-

Soifon dashed left as a hailstorm of katanas flew after her like guided missiles. She dodged and swatted and kicked them away, but there were swords everywhere. Flying through the air, embedded in walls - there was nowhere to turn without nicking or cutting herself.

I have to get out of this armory, she thought. The space to fight is too sma- _ksa!_

Smith was behind her with a sword blow that struck her shikai with epic force. It had been ages since Soifon had been to the real world, and she was only now reminded about her imposed limit. Until now, despite the mismatch in physical size, his blows had only hurt a fraction of what they should because of the phase difference between physical and spiritual matter. That must have changed post-shikai, Soifon thought. I'll have to be careful.

Charging forward, Smith cut loose with a fierce upslash/crosscut/backhand, putting Soifon on her toes. With a wicked spin and a flick of her head, she sent her long braids flying into his temple; the heavy bronze rings at their end slamming a shaded haze of pain into his vision. Her slipper-covered foot had an opening to connect with his hip bone, twisting his body in a crumpled momentum. She would have followed it with a straight-fingered jab to his jugular, but he spat in her eyes; and the distraction proved enough to avoid the throat-piercing blow.

With distance between them, Smith came on her unshielded side, hoping to force her to block awkwardly with her short-range shikai. Soifon responded with a sidestep-jab that missed his face by inches, but she landed a knee to his gut and an elbow to the face - only to realize that he was using his own body as a distraction.

A trio of katanas coming from behind almost sliced in her into pieces. Soifon flickered out to avoid them, but with no room to land in a convenient place, she was back to dancing and prancing around the whirling dervish of steel edges as Smith pursued her. He hurled katana after katana at her, pulling another and another from among the cloud of tsurugi all around.

What a troublesome shikai, Soifon swore as she tried to distance herself - but then Smith was behind her back.

"_Hirenkyaku_," he smirked. "Or did you forget all about my story already?"

Soifon spun to block a one-handed razor swing, but the snap kick hit her in the face - the first fully-phased blow to strike her, and the differential was phenomenal. Temporarily stunned by the teeth-shaking blow, Smith used his free hand to withdraw his other katana - the one he had walked in with - and came at her wide.

Years of training saved her, and Soifon ducked in the nick of time. Befitting a captain, she reacted just as quickly: _"Allow me to return the favor!"_ Soifon taunted, landing a ball-busting uppercut into his pelvis.

Smith crumpled, and Soifon tried for the insta-kill; aiming for Smith's exposed chest. She struck air as he flashed out of range; it was only a few steps back but enough to spare him even a first strike. "Impressive," Soifon chortled. "For a quincy, anyway."

He managed to regain his stance, and hurled the zanpakutou called Yojimbo at her. His aim was remarkable, but Soifon was too fast for that. In dodging, it suddenly became clear that he wasn't expecting to even hit her with that - as she twisted left, her hand was stabbed through by one of the infinite swords that had been flying through the air. It pinned her to the wall of the armory, and she was stuck. With no choice but to pull it out, Soifon grabbed the hilt of the Yojimbo clone and instantly realized her mistake. The moment she touched the hilt of the sword to pull it out, she was paralyzed.

I'm such an idiot, Soifon cursed herself. Of course it was a trap. What's the point of a shikai that creates a thousand swords if your opponent can use them?

John Smith was laughing, cackling, brimming with victorious excitement. "_Kuroshine,_" he commanded, _"Finish her."_

Soifon braced herself for a stab through the chest, but all she received was a cut on the cheek.

"Now listen," Smith ordered, swatting her frozen hand off the hilt. Placing his boot on her wrist, he violently yanked the katana out of her impaled hand, wiped the blood off on her haori, and sheathed it; the furious cloud of steel vanishing as Soifon began to feel her limbs respond to commands again.

A pressure-laden pain began to form between Soifon's hips and back around near her kidneys, and then her stomach began to churn and curdle. With a sudden heave, she wretched violently, the acrid taste of stinging bile left on her teeth. She began to feel the perspiration exude on her forehead as another wave of nausea caused her to vomit again, but this time the intensity was so strong that she lost control of her bowels; and the pressure in her abdomen gave way to a leave a sticky, sloppy stench trickling down the back of her uniform.

It was then that Soifon began to sweat heavily, feeling beads of moisture form in her armpits and the insides of her elbows and knees. The dull, dizzying ache of fever raged in her head as her temperature climbed higher and higher, settling at an agonizing 104.6F. Her body felt stiff and her muscles began to tighten in soreness as she erupted into shivering microspasms, which triggered another heave of burning, acidic bile from her gut.

The flaming rheumatic pain that formed in her knuckles and joints was only secondary to the torturous throbbing she could feel in her stomach, but it wasn't long until the dull pain behind her eyes and in her forehead flared to a fierce pounding; outdoing all previous discomfort combined. Soifon's vision was clouded with black spots, and she tried to regain her sense of surroundings but her now-dry mouth and pervasive weakness made it difficult.

She had a newfound respect for Ukitake Jushiro. Soifon had never felt anything like this before. So this is what it's like to be sick? she wondered. She would have smiled, but it hurt. I bet Kotsubaki would love to see me like this, she thought absentmindedly. What he wouldn't pay to see me be the beaten one. I bet it would make him hornier than a rhino with a trombone.

"Kuroshine," Smith sneered confidently. "The Black Death. My zanpakutou, the Plaguebringer. It might not kill you in two strokes, but the first cut certainly makes you wish you were already dead, doesn't it?"

In an act of pure humiliation, he kicked her square in the rump and then ground his shoe into it, spreading the messy splorch all over her back and buttocks. "I hope your subordinates find you stained in your own filth," he said bitterly.

"Why...?" Soifon wheezed, trying to overcome the insane swirling in her head and the pulsating, throbbing ache that permeated her bones.

_"Why?"_ Smith shouted, challenging her audacity to speak. Suddenly, he reached for her ear and clicked her commlink on. "I'll tell you why, so that you and all your little bastard friends can hear me!" he shouted. "It's because you shinigami are piss-poor incompetent! Do you know what it's like to sit and watch your brother's soul degrade into a hollow? For my brother's soul to turn into a demon because you lazy, high-horse shinigami have better things to do? Better things to do than send a pitiful, autistic soul to his future in heaven? _You fucking piss me off!"_

Soifon couldn't even respond, as she began to cough and sneeze violently on the ground. Phlegm soon gave way to blood, and she coughed so hard that it caused her to vomit all over herself. Her eyes began to water and itch, and her ears felt clogged and stuffy.

"Do you know who had to end his misery? _ME!_ With the only zanpakutou that I had! That I had to slay Trevor's soul because you witless pricks have a monopoly on death? And you ask me why I've been trying to put you out of a job? _It's because you suck at it!"_

A powerful sneeze must have made her suffer a brief blackout, since Suzemubachi returned to wakizashi form when she opened her eyes again. In a moment, her chest tightened and she could barely breathe. With short, shallow gasps, she barely caught enough air to limpidly block a blow from Smith's katana that would have otherwise beheaded her.

"So you still have some fight in you?" he sneered. "We'll solve that quickly," he commented before placing a shallow cut on her ankle. It burned and stung and the pain was exasperating, and Soifon's stomach began to clench and unclench in queasy anguish, as though it wished it had something it could expel. Suddenly, her fever crashed, and Soifon felt extraordinarily cold; as though her bones and blood had been bathed in arctic ice water. Soifon's entire body began shaking in violent shivers, quivering until her teeth were chattering so loudly they could probably be heard through her commlink to the 12th division's command post.

Smith followed with a stab in her buttock, which caused her to eject another stream of mortification. Soifon's last shred of dignity was removed as her bladder gave way, the urine's putrid smell mixing with the other wafting scents of illness. It was then that the vicious, burning itching began, starting from her lost dignity until it spread all over. Her flesh tingled with a creepy, skittering torture, practically begging to be flayed off with iron combs. The vexing, tormenting sensation was so overwhelming that it nearly drew forth a spirit-breaking insanity. Soifon wanted to scream her head off it was so punishing.

_Looks like we don't have much choice,_ Suzemubachi reasoned. _We can only hope the burst of reiatsu causes him to back off for a minute._

Soifon barely nodded. She hated to have to do this, but there was no other way. Soifon mustered all her strength, and in between sneezes that tore at her throat and lungs and sinuses, she managed to slowly whisper the only words she had left: _"Ban...kai... Ja...ku...ho... Rai...ko...ben..."_

The immense power of the transformative blast, despite Soifon's active limiter, caught Smith by surprise, and it threw him into the wall nearly fifteen feet away. As the stars passed from his vision, he regained his senses enough to realize exactly who he was fighting against. So this is the power of a captain, he thought. He had never seen a bankai before. Not bad for someone who's busy dying, he mused.

"What trick do you have up your sleeve now, dear Captain?" Smith shouted as the smoke and dust began to clear. "Whatever you have is too little, too late! You can't save yourself!"

Soifon had managed to climb to her knees, only with the support of sheer reiatsu to sustain her. Peering at him through the eyesight of her bankai, the crosshairs aligned; and she realized she had only a moment. The dust had not yet settled, and she gave all of her strength to announce the words that would vanquish her target's hope in but a moment:

"And tell me, John Smith - _who said I need to save myself?"_

_That's the way of the Onmitsukido,_ Suzemubachi declared.

_Amen,_ Soifon smiled.

And that was when NATA Commanding Agent John Smith realized that a two-hundred megaton missile was aimed at his face.

Goodbye, Yoruichi-sama. I love you.

**_BOOM._**

* * *

_"Act I was so exciting, Tousama! I cannot wait for Act II!"  
__~Kuchiki Hisako, the first time her father took her to see a play_

* * *

_And you thought we were near the end... **Reviews, please!** There were lots of revelations in this chapter, and I am interested on hearing your reactions to them.  
Next chapter: An unexpected reunion._


	25. Angel Returns to the Devil's Playground

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_"**Of course** I'm a virgin! Are you kidding me? How could I get married if I wasn't? Hey, don't you look at me like that, Sako-chan! Being a cat doesn't count! No, it doesn't! I swear! Hey, no, that doesn't mean you can go telling Kaa-sama! **Hey wait, get back here!**"_

_~Shihoin Zarina (who inherited the rare ability to morph into a cat from her mother), 212 years from now_

* * *

Nanao swore loudly in frustration as the 12th division video feed showed the NATA compound go up in a giant fireball. "FUCK!"

Hana Tsubaki was in shock. Omaeda could only mutter. "...Taicho...?"

Akon adjusted some controls. "We lost signal with Soifon Taicho."

"No," Tsubaki whispered. "No... no - Soifon Taicho?"

Nanao never got along with Soifon, but that didn't mean she wished her ill. She was stunned. This was supposed to be an in-and-out rescue mission - Soifon herself had insisted it was a stealth operation. There's no way - Soifon had to be alive. She had to be. There's no way a captain of the Gotei 13 - especially not one who was that proud - could succumb to a bunch of humans. It was inconceivable.

"Doesn't sound good, either," Akon grimaced, shaking his head. "Here's the last audio feed I've got."

They listened with dismay as Soifon's voice came through, practically admitting her own suicidal attempt to take out the NATA leader. Tsubaki was in tears, Omaeda just stood with a blank expression on his face.

-:-

"Rangiku-san!" Momo squealed as she came into the ICU room. Shiro-chan and Karin-chan were there, and Matsumoto was sprawled out on a bed. Her head was bandaged, and her face was covered in foundation makeup. Momo's face twisted in horror as she saw the disgusting tattoos running up Matsumoto's arms; whoever had done this to her was a sick, sick pervert.

"Sshh," Toshiro cautioned. "She's resting."

"Will she be okay?" Momo asked, worried.

"We're waiting for Kotetsu Fukutaicho," Karin explained as she picked up a bag from one of the chairs by the bedside. "We don't know. Kotetsu-san is waiting for lab results; we've been here for at least an hour already."

Matsumoto looked awful. Her reitsu level was next to nothing. She had all sorts of machinery hooked up to her, and Momo was angry. "Who did this to her?"

"According to reports," Toshiro said quietly, "one of the NATA agents named 'Q'."

Karin broke the grief-strung tension in the room. "I need to get going," she said softly. "I have to get back."

Hitsugaya nodded. He wanted Karin to stay, but the only one on duty in Karakura right now was Afro-san and Arisawa. He had no faith in the former and while Arisawa was a respectable member of Division Black, there was no way she could handle Karakura all by herself.

Karin gave him a hug and kissed him on the forehead before giving him a goodbye kiss. Toshiro was sad that she had to leave. More than ever, he wished she could stay. "It might be awhile before I can visit," he added, knowing that she already understood this but he felt obligated to say it anyway.

"I know," Karin said, hugging him one last time. She lingered, and slowly looking to Matsumoto with a tear in her eye, she left the ICU, sad for Rangiku. Although Karin and Toshiro weren't married (yet - she was pretty sure it would happen one of these days), Rangiku and Momo were an extension of Karin's family, just as much as Rukia, Byakuya, Kuukaku and Hisako were. Karin wasn't particularly close with either Rangiku or Momo, but she knew that they were deeply important to Toshiro, and she was sorrowful because of that alone. She knew Toshiro and Momo were hurting right now, and at some level, Karin felt guilty and ashamed that she didn't feel the same loss.

It was hard - she didn't live here; she didn't see these people all the time. She lived in two worlds, but this was not the one where she made the most connections. Yuzu, Ichigo, Rukia, even Dad - the ones who were on Earth with her all the time - they were closely bound to her. It just wasn't the same.

It made her deeply sad. She loved Toshiro and loved the people he loved; but she couldn't relate the same way to them. She really didn't know how Ichigo did it - the more and more she thought about it, the more and more she realized that the focus of her life was torn between the day-to-day decisions of life in the World of the Living, and the love of her life in far-away Soul Society. It wasn't easy, and right now, she was acutely aware of it. On the one hand, it was easier - while still not easy, Soul Society had been a lot more forgiving of their age difference than Earth had been - but Karin was still a product of Japan; complete with its karaoke bars, movie theaters, soccer games and modern plumbing.

Okay, so Soul Society managed to have modern plumbing in the Sereitei, but still, life in Edo-period Soul Society wasn't exactly what she was used to.

They didn't have anything like a professional soccer league here - and for Karin, it was hard to imagine. She had already received invitations to come to Japan's World Cup Team's practice, to see how she could do when she played around with the professionals. Talk of recruiting her in time for the Olympics was out there. No matter how much she loved Toshiro, her life was still too tied up on Earth - and even there, she didn't know what she would do. Soccer was great, but she still wasn't even sure if she should sacrifice grad school for that.

Karin turned one last time to look at Toshiro, Rangiku, and Momo; and Toshiro nodded to her. He knew that this was a hard moment for her, and he affirmed his understanding and provided the visual cue as an encouragement. Somehow, he knew everything would be okay.

He hoped.

There was quiet in the ICU room for a few moments. The only sound heard was the quiet echo of Karin's footsteps down the hall, and even that faded in time.

Momo broke the silence. "Is everything okay between you two?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Karin's just really stressed out."

Momo looked away. It seemed that everyone was stressed out. She herself was having one hell of a stressful day, that was for sure.

The awkward silence was blissfully broken by the arrival of Isane. "Hitsugaya Taicho, Hinamori Fukutaicho."

They nodded in acknowledgement, but neither seemed to have a desire to speak.

"I'm sorry, Hinamori-san, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Isane said apologetically. "According to privacy laws, I can only disclose the full nature of Matsumoto Fukutaichio's condition to her captain."

Momo nodded, but her zanpakutou was protesting.

_Not fair,_ Tobiume whined.

_She says you have to leave?_ Kyouka Suigetsu asked sarcastically. _Then let her see you leave._

I don't understand, Momo answered.

_Let them see you leave_, he emphasized. _This is not the inner sanctum, O Master of the Sun._

I don't under-

**_Let them see you leave,_** he repeated.

The sudden realization dawned upon Momo as she put her hand on the hilt of her sword, and watched with surprise as she stood there, being ignored while Toshiro's and Isane's eyes traced her path out the door. As though she was no longer there, Isane turned to Toshiro and sighed.

They... they think I left.

_And now you understand,_ Kyouka Suigetsu explained, _how a god learns things it needs to know to achieve omniscience._

_See? I told you it was a good idea to bring him along,_ Tobiume added cheerfully.

Hinamori sank back into a chair, an invisible witness to the events as they would unfold. She was eager to hear what had happened, and she was amazed by how simple it was. How absolutely, utterly simple it was. It was so easy that she could only begin to imagine what she could learn this way.

Toshiro broke the silence. "Kotetsu," he said, his eyes still fixated on his vice captain. He would never say it aloud, but Matsumoto had been like a mother to him in so many ways. Not that he truly thought of her that way, but she was family to him. "How bad is it?"

"...Bad."

"Don't spare me the details," Hitsugaya stated bitterly.

Isane grimaced. "The official diagnosis is subcutaneous rosmosis poisoning."

"No!" Toshiro's eyes opened. "_A reiatsu seal?_ It can't be!"

"Those aren't normal tattoos," she began. "The ink is made out synthesized bloodlust rock. It's synthetic, so they were able to concentrate it. Each milliliter of ink is three-hundred percent more concentrated than an entire kilo of pure sekki-sekki."

Hitsugaya was speechless.

"She has so much of that stuff in her, it's amazing she's alive," Isane admitted.

"Is there anything we can do?" Hitsugaya asked frantically. "There has to be _something_!"

"I don't know," Isane said. "We can't use kido to extract it; the ink just nullifies any and all kido we could use. We could attempt physical surgery over stages, trying to remove it by hand - "

"You would have to practically flay her entire body," Toshiro realized. "That would have tremendous complications."

"Correct," Isane confirmed solemnly. "But that won't help."

"Oh my god - it can't be _worse_?" Toshiro nearly pleaded.

Isane hesitated. "According to blood samples, some of the synthetic stone is in her bloodstream. By now, her heart has pumped it throughout her entire body. It's probably absorbed into nearly all of her tissue by now. We've taken some samples from the inside of her mouth to confirm the presence of trace amounts in tissue already, but even a trace amount is equivalent to ten grams of rock."

"...Then it's completely permeated her system," he said in shock. "That means -"

"- That she'll never be a shinigami again," Isane confessed, straining to keep her composure. She had been in the position to give bad news for many, many decades now; but this was something that even she couldn't distance herself personally from. Inside, Isane was absolutely raging. She wanted to find whoever did this to her and teach him a lesson. A long lesson involving lots and lots of remorse and guilt, _to be physically induced whenever possible._

Hitsugaya sat down. This was too much. He couldn't believe it. In all the years he had known her, he couldn't believe it had come down to this.

"Even if we found some way to extract all of that bloodlust liquid," Isane continued, "even if we found a way to completely pull it out of the tissue - by now, her soulcore is irreversibly damaged. She may not even wake up at this point."

Tears of intense distress formed in the corners of Hitsugaya's eyes. "She's in a coma."

"Not yet," Isane clarified. "But she's probably going to enter one soon."

"Can't you do anything?"

"To be honest, a coma would be the best thing for her right now," Isane answered. "It's the body's natural response to severe trauma. If she's going to improve, even marginally, a short-term coma would help."

"...But there's a risk that she won't wake up."

Isane hesitated. "Yes. And if she does wake up, I can't say for certain how functional she'll be. The psychotrauma could be profound; even if she manages to come out of a coma in better physical health, we have no idea if she'll be emotionally stable."

Hitsugaya couldn't take it anymore; it was too painful. "Matsumoto..." he whispered.

"I'm sorry, Hitsugaya Taicho," Isane said sympathetically. She hated being the bearer of bad news, and this was the worst kind. There was no closure; only doubt and grief and lingering sorrow. It was a tragedy of the highest order.

Unaware to the two of them, Momo was sobbing, restrained only by her teeth grinding like a millstone. She was furious. She was so pissed she couldn't believe it. She was going to find that bastard Q, and she was going to let him have it.

_Yes, O Master of the Sun, let's find him. Let's find this Q._

_I agree, Peach of Mine - let's find him. Let's find him and **kill him.**_

Momo darted off. She needed a plan.

-:-

"Permission to speak candidly, Taicho-sama?"

Byakuya closed his eyes in forebearance. "Granted."

"You have got to be kidding me," Ichihime said. "You want me to smoke this guy out? You know me, I'll do any assignment; but you're expecting me to be able to maneuver around all this political posturing? My father may have been good with that sort of thing, but I stay as far away as I can from the Council of Nobility. I show up when I need to, and try not to stir up trouble. You can't believe this is a good idea."

Byakuya sighed. "I have no other options," he said. "My relationship with the Council is already strained, due to my numerous requests on Imoto-san's behalf. Neither I nor Shiba Taicho would be able to insert ourselves without great interference from the other members. We need someone who commands enough authority to influence the entire Council, but has not yet stirred up their ire."

Ichihime looked away, annoyed. "What about Shihoin-dono?"

"Her century-long absence is not easily overlooked," Byakuya explained. "In fact, it is safe to see that for a Head of House, she is relatively ineffectual at changing the tide of opinion in noble matters. Besides, she is in mourning and will likely not be attending in person."

"Taicho-sama, I can't see how they would treat me any better. I have to be the youngest Head of House in centuries - I'm not even 130 yet. There's no way that they would respect my authority."

"I beg to differ," Byakuya replied. "Quite the contrary. You have many allies in the Council. The other three Houses will support you openly, as will your extended family, the Hikifunes and Kyourakus."

"Oh yes, because Hikifune Muertara knows me from a hole in the wall, and my uncle is such a respected figure in the Kyouraku Family," she retorted.

"Perhaps, but they will still support you, I am sure of it. The Fon, Omaeda, and Sasakibe families will all support you as well - they will all want justice to be served."

She was skeptical. "Are you claiming that the Omaeda family will care about Soifon's death? She didn't seem to get along with Marechiyo-san all that well. And I would hardly believe that the Fon family cares about this sort of thing, seeing as how they raise their family members to fall in the line of duty."

"On the contrary, Omaeda Fukutaicho actually did care for his captain. But that is irrelevant. Both of them are retainer families to the House of Shihoin. They will support anything supported by the Shihoin House. The Urahara family will also certainly support you, leaving only the Kuzaku and Nikayui families."

"And I would hope that the Nikayui Family would support me as well," Ichihime thought out loud.

That was interesting news, Byakuya thought. He had heard many rumors about the courtship between the Nikayui Family and the House of Banzo since he had approached him about the subject, but she had never openly given any confirmation to him. Not that she generally would. They had a very formal and professional relationship; much like he had with Abarai Renji before her.

Byakuya momentarily thought about commenting on the subject, but decided not to. "Thus among the Houses or Upper Noble Families, you must only concern yourself with convincing the Kuzaku Family to side with you."

Ichihime grimaced. "Pardon me if I'm still skeptical, Taicho-sama. Kuzaku Mikoto is more stubborn than an iron post."

Byakuya closed his eyes again. "You are the best chance the Gotei 13 has to gaining access to Central 46. There is no likely way we could gain access to their chambers without the Council for Nobility's permission; and without access to the chamber-"

"We can't find the mole," she finished for him. "I get it, I get it." Ichihime sighed. "You know I would rather be sent to Hueco Mundo than do this, Taicho-sama."

Byakuya let out a tiny smile that was reserved for only his closest inner circle - his wife, his daughter, his sister, and his lieutenant. "Consider it a training excercise."

Ichihime glared at him. "Very funny."

Byakuya's smile vanished as he continued with the mission details. "The next Council for Nobility meeting is scheduled in two weeks' time. This unfortunately leaves us a with opportunity for which our mole could escape, but we have no choice. We have done the best we can to prevent that from happening, including deploying vice captains to monitor the guards, in an attempt to discourage bribery of the lower officers."

Ichihime's head turned like clockwork. If there was one thing she would never be accused of, it would be stupidity. Ichihime had been the benefactor of the best education Soul Society had to offer, and she was a smart woman. "This is going to be a challenge," she admitted begrudgingly. "I may be a Head of House, but I am still only a vice captain. I am the last survivor of my House, and if I stir up trouble, an assasination attempt is likely as there would be no one able to retaliate."

"I-"

"Sorry, Taicho-sama, I know you would go all high-horse vengeance on me, but as you say, you're already politically compromised. Any part played by you would be perceived as me being your agent, which would bring the Council's wrath upon you. You already know you can't do that."

Byakuya's hand found its way to his chin. "I concede that you have a point."

Ichihime thought carefully. "Despite the influence of the Upper Court, I'll need allies in the Middle and Lower Courts if I'm going to get this done without stirring up a death wish."

Byakuya thought for a moment. "The Ukitake family in the Lower Court can be counted upon, and assuming Kira Fukutaicho remains stable, his delegate could be counted on to support you as well."

"No offense to Ukitake Taicho or Kira-san, but they are quite possibly the least important families in the Lower Court, which lacks real influence to begin with. The Lower Court typically sides with the Middle Court, in an attempt to curry favor from its power brokers," she reasoned.

Byakuya's eyebrow rose in conjunction with the corner of his mouth. "And you claim that you lack aptitude for navigating these murky waters of political ambitions?"

"I suppose I've learned at least a thing or two from all of those damn Sessions for Aristocracy over the past ten years," Ichihime chuckled. Returning to a serious demeanor for a moment, she considered the members of the Middle Court. "There will likely be heavy opposition within the more established members of the Middle Court."

"The Naga family is almost certain to oppose you," Byakuya noted, thinking of the return of the Shihoin who had once been married into their family. "They oppose any and all change to the status quo."

"And from what I understand, so did you, once upon a time," she said lightly, seeing how he would react. It was a bit brazen of her, but Ichihime already had permission to speak candidly, so the sass was out in full force.

Byakuya sighed. "I cannot deny that I find deep value in tradition," he noted. "Although I have learned that change, in small moderation and over time, can be beneficial," he admitted, knowing full well that his actual open-mindedness conflicted with his reputation and demeanor.

Ichihime shrugged, still thinking. "Which one was the retainer family for Urahara-san again?"

"Tsukabishi?" Byakuya offered.

"Yeah, that one," she confirmed. "Are they in the Middle Court?"

"Not anymore," he answered. "After Tessai-san departed to the World of the Living, the scandal forced them to be demoted to the Lower Court."

Ichihime sighed. "Just great," she muttered. "The Middle Court will be difficult to persuade. I can already see the Ryogi Horo teaming up with Naga Uyida to make my life miserable. Perhaps if I could get to Horo-san's daughter Shiki, I might be able to broker a deal; but she's an ice queen with serious mental issues. I'll have to see."

Byakuya hesitated. "If I may be so bold to imply matters of personal significance -"

"Oh god no," Ichihime smiled teasingly. "You're really not going to ask that, are you?"

Byakuya's face went stern. She shook her head amusingly and allowed him to continue. "I was simply going to say that seeing as how the the Nikayui Family is only on the cusp of the Upper Court, their favor will likely be more influential on the Middle Court moreso than any support you receive from the other Upper Noble Families. Ryogi Horo is more inclined to follow Nikayui Tesho than Naga Uyida."

"Taicho, permission to speak candidly?"

Byakuya sighed again. He knew what was coming. "I have already granted said permission."

"Yeah, well I had to ask again, because _NO FUCKING WAY,_" she spat. "I am not mixing personal and political relationships. You of all people should know better, shouldn't you? Isn't the Council already up your ass for marrying Shiba Taicho?"

Byakuya looked askance rather than let her see the shame in his eyes. "I concede that you are correct," he acknowledged. "I am sorry for suggesting it," he added. It was against his personality to apologize for anything, which is exactly why he did it. It was one of the many tests of character he had promised he would pass, so that he could be a good father, a good husband, a good brother and a good captain.

Ichihime smirked at her little victory, trying to settle in as his peer rather than his subordinate for the moment. It was taking getting used to. "No worries, Kuchiki Taicho."

"If I may, though -"

"Oh god here it comes," she cracked.

Byakuya ignored her. "I hope that things are going well between you and Nikayui-san, and not just for political sake."

Ichihime was a bit turned off by the shift in topic. "I suppose," she replied vaguely. "I have a date with him tomorrow night, actually. It's had me up in knots, to be honest with you."

He hesitated, not knowing whether or not it was his place - but he dared to speak anyway. "I have advice for you, if you wish to hear it."

She looked at him askance before shrugging indifferently. He took it as a signal that he might as well attempt it. "If this is about Abarai-kun -"

"Okay, this is where the conversation stops," she interrupted humorously, but Byakuya could tell she wasn't comfortable with the topic. "No offense, Taicho-sama, but this is a one-way trip to Weirdsville."

Byakuya paused before continuing. "I understand," he said. "Then allow me to excuse you from your duties for tomorrow and the rest of today. You have important personal matters to address, I am sure."

Irked, she gave him a sideways glance of annoyance. "I can only hope that you're not implying I should use that time to focus on the political implications of my evening out."

Byakuya stared at her crossly. The gesture was easily interpreted: _You know perfectly well that I, of all people, do not place matters of the heart below such ridiculous nonsense._

"Okay, okay," she admitted. "I know, I know. Sorry, but you have to admit that this is weird. I'm discussing my love life with my captain."

Byakuya resumed his paperwork, knowing he would have to do hers for today and tomorrow as well. "Consider it training," he suggested.

Ichihime wondered if he was merely being humorous. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Byakuya did not look up from his paperwork. "As a shinigami, I am your captain. But perhaps as a Head of House, you may eventually come to consider me a friend. Perhaps it is time you step away from one perspective so that you can master another."

Ichihime blinked stupidly. She knew better than to miss the implied compliment: that he thought she was already a respectable shinigami, and that carried enormous weight with her. "Arigato, Taicho-sama," she bowed, briefly returning to military formality.

Byakuya nodded. "I shall see you the day after tomorrow. And please allow me to say one thing."

"Oh god no, here we go again," she teased. "What?"

"Have fun."

Ichihime laughed. "Taicho-sama, you're really surprising sometimes, you know that?"

A tiny smile formed on his mouth before he refocused his entire attention on the paperwork, and Ichihime departed.

-:-

Unohana Retsu carefully pulled the blanket over Kitsune's shoulders. After hours of squirming, complaining, and whining, he had finally fallen asleep. Bedtime is always a challenge, she thought happily, and it is so rewarding to emerge victorious.

Gently rising from the bed where she had been lying down with her son, she found her husband waiting quietly in the doorway.

Rukia-dono is here, he mouthed, careful not to wake Kitsune.

That's odd, Retsu thought. Wasn't she on a mission? Did she get back already? If so, what is she doing here? If there were injuries, she would know to go to the infirmary, not my house.

Coming, she mouthed back. Saijin gently closed the door behind her as she glided out on tiptoes.

"There are others with her," he whispered. "I do not know who they are, but they are terrified of me, so I will take leave."

Retsu frowned but understood. She kissed his nose and he gave a small lick of her cheek, and then he retired to their bedroom.

Smoothing out her uniform and taking a moment to insure she was presentable (for even Unohana Retsu could become disheveled by her son, Kitsune), she passed through the hallway until she came to the living room, where she found Rukia waiting for her.

And that was when the unflappable Unohana Retsu's face went into a rare shock of blank, unexpected surprise. "...Toki-chan?"`

"Unohana Taicho," Naga Toyuki saluted, as though she had never left.

"You're alive!"

"Yes," she said simply, still saluting, the same way she answered any other question - without emotion or excitement.

"She was being held captive by the NATA," Rukia explained, and then gestured to her other guest. "This is Kyon," she introduced, switching into Englishfor his benefit, since he didn't understand Japanese.

"Pleased to meet you," he nodded politely.

Hmm, Unohana thought offhand, shaking off her surprise. Greek accent. Been a while since I've heard that language.

"We just returned from the mission," Rukia explained, "and I thought for her sake, I should bring her to see you immediately. You and the Soutaicho are likely the only ones here she might recognize."

"I understand, Rukia-san. Please, all of you, have a seat while I make some tea." And gather my wits about me as I've just seen someone practically return from the dead.

"_Hai,_" Toyuki said, remaining in Japanese because she was still adhering to military protocol.

"At ease," Unohana instructed her kindly, already remembering that Toki-chan would not do so unless it was an order.

Unohana brought the tea to the coffee table in their living room. Saijin had been a darling and straightened up today's grand mess of string beans and veal-and-carrot stew that had made it all over the floor and walls. (As much as Kitsune was a human boy, he still ate like an animal.) So at the very least, the place had been fit for company. As much as their home ever could be, anyway.

Handing a cup of tea to her guests (making sure the shaky and unnerved Kyon held it tightly before letting him take it), Unohana began to ask for the story when Toyuki's mouth opened and never shut, a stream of medical knowledge flying out of her mouth:

"Quantanic poisoning: 20cc lutagrame. Reishi stagnation of the liver due to acute fiorosis: 37.33cc jinkanesium per kilogram. Broken hyakusu shield: .02cc reishonomine per amplicore. Head wound: check eyes for dilation; if shock, raise feet 30.2 degrees, cover with blanket, monitor heart rate, pulse, and breathing before bandaging. Ketamine for pain, use 6 grams of hypoallergenic coagulent for bleeding. For hemophiliacs, increase dose to 24 grams. Convulsions: 21cc philarymagine. Infection of intestinal tract: 19.333cc of kohaminic syrup with 9cc antiviral and 12cc antibacterial agent. Follow with bacifidus lachrymosa one hour later to stimulate digestion. Nausea: 13cc of-"

"Thank you, Toki-chan, that's enough," Unohana interrupted politely. "...I see you haven't forgotten your medical studies."

Toyuki pulled two of the three books out of her satchel and placed them on the desk. Unohana recognized them immediately: they were the 4th Division's Physician Desk Reference from eight centuries ago. (Back then, it was only two volumes.) "Request to rejoin the Gotei 13," she said unemotionally (still in Japanese), although the yearning eyes spoke otherwise.

"Toki-chan," Unohana sighed and set down her tea. She stayed in English for Kyon's sake. "I... I don't know that it is even possible. First of all, despite my own personal beliefs, you are still officially registered as a banished criminal."

"Criminal!" Kyon shouted out, exasperated. "What? That's absurd!"

Rukia put a firm hand on his shoulder to calm him down. To Rukia, it was just a simple gesture; but Kyon's impression of the woman as a deadly regal was enough to silence him into embarassment for his outburst. He had seen how nearly everyone had bowed in her presence on the way here, and having seen her singlehandedly wipe out a team of NATA agents, he was easily intimidated.

Still patient, Toyuki was silent. She didn't seem to be fazed by anything. The quiet in her stillness made it clear she was waiting for Unohana to continue.

"Second, even if are allowed to return to the Gotei 13, your knowledge of medicine is from an era long ago. Even despite your incredible accumen for the subject, it might take you decades of medical training to fill in all that you have missed. Furthermore, there is likely no way I could assure you of a seated position or even an underseat. You may be forced to start at the very beginning, and serve in the maintenance units of the 4th division. I don't know that I could personally bare to see you working in the laundry rooms again - and that's assuming that your lineage could still get you out of sewer cleaning duty this time around."

That had been exactly how she started. Her father, Head of House Shihoin Pomodora, had pulled strings left and right to get his Toki-chan accepted into the Gotei 13. He had loved her and wanted her to have a semi-normal life; complete with employment and the opportunity to interact with others rather than stay at home in isolation. He had correctly guessed that she would do much better out in the real world, and so he arranged for her entrance into the 4th. As a Shihoin, she was quickly overlooked for sewer-cleaning work (lest her father Pomodora find out) and her operations lead assigned her to a group that did the laundry.

It had proven to be a good fit - she didn't need to talk to anyone and could fold linens quickly, efficiently, methodically, and perfectly. She never complained and always did exactly twenty percent more than was expected. The group lead had noticed, and when performance reviews were taken down, she was singled out for being a diligent and dutiful worker. In fact, Shihoin Tokine would have stayed in laundry division had it not been for faulty equipment.

One day, one of the members of her group had been ironing the sheets with the full-press tabletop steamer, no different than any other day; and the upper press broke loose from the ceiling. It crashed down, landing on top of one of her teammates; severely burning her and nearly crushing her if the five others hadn't been there to haul it off its hapless victim. The group lead had immediately gone to look for the vice captain at the time, Ukitake Kuneida. When Kuneida-san returned, he found Toki-chan hovering over the poor soul, both of her hands illuminated in green medical kido. She had already mended all of the broken bones - including perfect reconstruction of the woman's crushed face, which was unimaginable for an unseated officer - and had mitigated the burns down to nothing worse than first-degree. With Kuneida-san's help, the two had restored the victim back to full health within a few minutes; an astonishing miracle by standards of the time. That was how Shihoin Tokine got out of laundry duty and started in the medical unit.

She would have stayed an unseated officer, but Unohana had been thankfully tipped off to a purported conspiracy. Supposedly, some unnamed officers in her squad were thinking of turning her into their plaything, believing that she would be incapable of reporting any rape since she didn't seem capable of speaking. Rather than give any chance of the events playing out, Unohana found a way to get her promoted to 20th seat, the last seated position, just so that she would have her own room. It was small and not particularly cozy, but it was a room with a door and a lock and separated Toki-chan from anyone who might have considered trying anything. Even if someone was horrible enough to rape an autistic girl, they would think twice about assaulting a seated officer. In her division, seated officers met with the vice captain every day and the captain at least three times a week, and it would be easy to see if something was out of order. There wasn't a single officer who wanted to see Unohana's wrath, and the specter of Retsu's watchful eye had been a circle of protection for the socially inept Toki-chan.

Unohana couldn't bear to imagine that after all Shihoin Tokine had been through, she would be stuck folding linens again (or worse). If that was what Toki-chan wanted, Unohana would be okay with it - but after hearing the petite woman rattle off the PDR, it was evident that she had wanted to return to the 4th division to do what she loved. Six hundred years is a long time to wait to resume one's dreams. The thought of seeing Toki-chan so close yet still so far was just not something Unohana could accept - and that was even assuming Shihoin Tokine could return to the Gotei 13 at all.

Rukia interjected the heavy silence that had been hanging in the air. "Is there anything we can do for her? She could clearly be an asset to the shinigami, Unohana Sensei."

Unohana sighed. "Do not misinterpret; I completely agree. If I were you, your best option is to take Toki-chan to her Head of House and see what they can do for her. Shihoin-dono will have much more influence in getting her sentence pardoned than I would. Assuming that is dealt with, I can try to find her a home in my squad - but I should warn her that I can't upset the clockwork of my division. I don't know that others in the hospital units would be as patient working with her as I and my vice captain were back when Toki-chan was last here. I can make no promises, despite my most sincere efforts to help her."

Kyon (who looked deeply shaken) took Toyuki's hand, even though subconsciously he knew that she would not be comfortable with it. "Do you understand what she is saying?"

"Yes," Toyuki answered him (speaking in English this time), but for the first time, with emotion in her voice. It was subtle, but it was still clear: disappointment.

Her caretaker seemed confused by the emotional response. "Do you want to meet with your Head of House?"

"Yes," she repeated, her robotic voice returning.

"Are you scared?"

"No."

Kyon rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. If he had been more with it, he wouldn't have even thought to do such a thing; knowing that she would hate the touch, but he couldn't help himself. "I'm worried about you, Toyuki."

Toyuki looked at him. Neither Rukia nor Unohana interpreted anything from the shinigami's blinking eyes, but Kyon understood and relaxed and refocused his attention to the other two women in the room. "Excuse my ignorance, Madam, but I know only the most basic details of Soul Society. I don't even know much about Toyuki," his head sagging in embarrassment, "...I didn't even know she was nobility."

A pause in his confession laid like a heavy blanket of gloom as Unohana and Rukia waited for him to continue. "With deference to the Esteemed Madam Kuchiki," he said, "if this Head of House you propose we should meet with is anything like those I have heard of, I fear for her safety."

"The only thing you have to worry about Yoruichi-san is the hairballs," Rukia snorted a chuckle. Kyon's face was completely baffled in embarrassed confusion. "Or maybe Zarina-chan's endless stream of questions."

Unohana's giggle was unmistakably cheery. "I was a colleague of Shihoin-no-kimi for many years, Kyon-kun, and I can assure you that you have little to worry about. She is normally a very happy-go-lucky person, although you will have to forgive her if she seems a tad morose. She has just lost a very close member of her family and is likely not in her best spirits."

Rukia sat up. "Come, I'll take you to see her. Unohana Sensei, thank you so much. I would love to stay and chat, but Ichigo is patiently waiting for me and I still have to accompany these two to Yoruichi-san's estate. And please apologize to Komamura Sensei for our inconvenience."

"Of course," Retsu replied graciously, and escorted her guests out the door.

-:-

Ichihime yelped in pain as the little pink-haired terror yanked the comb through her hair. "OWW!"

"Sorry, Hoopy-chan."

" 'Hoopy-chan'?"

"Hoopy-chan," Yachiru said quietly. "You have these hoopy earrings." I want earrings, Yachiru thought absentmindedly.

Ichihime rolled her eyes. Kusajishi Yachiru had graciously offered to help her comb out her rats-nest of a head after the hollow purging in southwest Kajori this morning. She was supposed to have the day off, but old habits die hard; and when the alarm went off she found herself there before she even remembered that she was off-duty.

Her hair was filled with slime, grime, dirt and dust; and when Yachiru had heard about her big date tonight (because somehow, anything Byakushi knew, she did too), the 11th division lietenant had volunteered. Although Ichihime could have asked her servants to do it, she thought it was unfair to make them attend to her personal grooming needs. Besides, she didn't think they could stomach the hollow slime.

"OWWWWW!" Ichihime groaned. "Yachiru-chan!"

"Sorry!"

Ichihime wondered if this was a good idea. Still, Ichihime knew that Yachiru needed the attention. The loss of her father, Kenpachi Zaraki, had crushed her spirit. Madarame San Seki was dead, and the only other shinigami she could claim to be close with - Ayasegawa Taicho - was still in a coma, and his prognosis was not good. Most would have thought it impossible, but Yachiru had stopped being the bouncy, cheery child she always was.

As vice captains of the front-line offensive units, the 6th and 11th divisions, they had fought alongside each other for a decade now. Ichihime had always had an affinity for the little girl, even before her promotion to the 6th when she had dyed her light, feathery platinum hair the same pink color as Yachiru's naturally pink locks.

Yachiru finally finished with the dreaded comb, so Ichihime leaned backwards into the water basin. Yachiru, somber but at the very least distracted, began washing out the remainder of the grime. "Oh - hey, your dye is coming out."

"Not surprising," Ichihime commented. "Hollow slime always bleaches the stuff out."

Yachiru smiled but didn't laugh. The restraint hurt Ichihime's soul, but despite Yachiru's physical appearance and her generally immature, child-like personality, Yachiru was almost as old as Ichihime - technically, a legal adult. Ichihime wondered if she was the only person who came to this realization.

"Are you going to dye it again?"

The noblewoman shrugged as the water filtered through her hairline. "I was thinking that maybe it's time to leave it the way it is. I'm a Head of House, I really should leave it alone."

"I'll start calling you Blondini," Yachiru chided.

Ichihime chuckled. "What is it with both of us and giving everyone nicknames?"

"I guess we make a good pair," Yachiru noted in a manner that was completely unlike her. It was a feigned cheeriness; like the voice of a child who suddenly came to grips with the world of adulthood. Despite the superficial happiness, there was dark pain in her voice; and Ichihime turned to embrace her.

The little woman began to sob, crying into Ichihime's linen bathrobe. Ichihime shushed her with cooing noises, trying to think about what it was like to be motherly. Never having had an opportunity to learn as a recipient, it felt forced and awkward. It left Ichihime uncomfortable; even depressed. _I lack the understanding of human connection,_ she realized; and the notion hurled her into an abyss of solemn despair. Tears sprung forth from Ichihime's eyes, and both sobbed together, a mess of anguish between them both.

But the embrace of another soul in pain saved them both; and in time, the sorrow abated. Both of them were women without mothers to have guided them. Sereitei princess and abandoned child of the Rukongai, Ichihime and Yachiru were from the same boat. They had more in common than most might believe. Comforted by their own tears on each others' faces, the two very misunderstood women separated and paused to breathe. Eventually, Yachiru started giggling, and it was infectious; the laughter seeping into Ichihime's lungs and out into her cheeks as the grave aura began to pass on.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Yachiru said, clearly hiding something.

"What?"

"Nothing, Blondini!" Yachiru laughed.

"Yachiru-chan," Ichihime needled her in between short bursts of giggles. "What is it?"

Yachiru restrained herself. "Ken-chan would tell me it's not a nice thing to say," she admitted. "But you were crying so hard that for a moment, both sides of your face were the same color."

Ichihime couldn't help but laugh. Only Yachiru could get away with saying something so ludicrously offensive. "Yeah, well, your rosy cheeks aren't so rosy anymore, either."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Ichihime shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"Let me braid your hair for you, okay?"

Ichihime hesitated. The Kuchiki family had always been identified by the raven hair, kenseikan and white scarf; the Shihoin family their dark skin and purple hair. The House of Banzo's Symbol of Dignitary amongst the Houses was the blonde hair, tightly plated and braided into a long rope of platinum tresses. Over the years since Ichihime had ascended to Head of House, she had let her formerly shoulder-length strands grow until they now reached just past her breasts; beyond that she had no patience for. Normally kept up in a ponytail with her favorite green ribbon (an inheritance from her mother), Ichihime rarely bothered to braid her hair. She preferred the opportunity her free hair left her to fidget with it; a bad habit that she couldn't get rid of.

Date night, though, was not the usual shinigami affairs of the Gotei 13, where she preferred to be Banzo Fukutaicho rather than Head of the Banzo House. No; date night was part of the political and aristocratic circles of Soul Society Nobility - the horrid and demanding domain of social niceties filled with backstabbing power-seekers and money-grubbers.

Despite this circle of peers, though, Nikayui Adame was remarkably different. He wasn't like Ichihime - he didn't disdain his nobility the way she did - but he wholly agreed with her that it was antiquated, and that too many nobles believed that it gave them divine right to do whatever they wanted. Yet he was nobility - and although he was not the stuffy type, Ichihime was obligated to present herself accordingly. This wasn't just an initial introduction that she could get away with a casual kimono thrown over her uniform; it was an official evening of courtship. That meant plaiting her braid in the royal style - something her personal assistant, Hoshimura Makina, most certainly knew how to do much better than Kusajishi Yachiru; who had probably never braided her hair in her entire life.

Then Ichihime realized that she could have Yachiru braid it, and have Makina-san take it out and rebraid if needed. This way, she wouldn't offend Yachiru. It was a good plan.

So Ichihime agreed, and Yachiru set about separating her feathery, silken strands; now their natural color. Cooperating, Ichihime took hold of the various tresses and separated branches with a bit of a surprise - she had assumed Yachiru would be braiding her hair with a simple two-lock twist or maybe even a three-lock plait, but to her surprise, Yachiru had pulled out seven separate tails of her silky hair and began an elaborate series of microbraids, humming a solemn but relaxing tune as her fingers threaded through Ichihime's hair with remarkable dexterity.

"Where did you learn to braid hair like this?"

"Ken-chan," Yachiru admitted. "He taught me when I was little. He used to do it on my hair when it got too long, before we joined the shinigami and still traveled all over the place."

"He was a good father," Ichihime said, truly knowing what it meant to have a shitty one. "You were very lucky."

"Yes," Yachiru said, a wistful note of fond memories in her voice. It was the first time Ichihime had ever seen Yachiru act in a way commensurate with her age. "He was."

"He would be really sad if he knew how you've lost your spirit, you know."

Yachiru smiled cheerily as a tear simultaneously rolled down her cheek, belying the image she was trying to put forth. "Here, give me that one on the left," she instructed, returning her focus to Ichihime's hair and changing the topic. "Are you excited for tonight?"

"Nervous," Ichihime confessed. "It's a bit of a challenge, trying to navigate these social demands. Although Nikayui-san is very laid back."

"Do you like him?"

Ichihime looked away, unable to say anything.

Yachiru furrowed her brow as she turned to look Ichihime in the eyes for a moment. "You don't like him?"

The princess sighed. "...Actually, I like him very much."

"So then what's the problem?"

"...I feel bad for Renji," she muttered quietly. "I really ditched him. It wasn't so nice."

Yachiru was evidently still confused. "But if it wasn't going to work out with Pineapple Head, what does it matter?"

"I know," she sighed again. "It still feels wrong."

"Why?"

"It doesn't sound wrong to you that I just dumped Renji, just because he was a commoner? Before I had even met Adame-san? That's the kind of awful thing my father would have done, Yachiru-cha- hey, OWWWWW!"

Yachiru was yanking on Ichihime's hair really hard, pulling it taut in an obvious rebuke. "That's not a nice thing to say," Yachiru said. "It had nothing to do with where Renji-kun came from. You ditched him because you didn't love him. Everybody knew it. Even Renji-kun."

"OWWW!" Ichihime growled. "Let go!"

Yachiru eased up and went back to braiding the end of Ichihime's hair. Despite the many years of abuse (both physical and chemical), it was soft and lush; comprised of thin, delicate strands that didn't seem like they should have held together by themselves. "You have beautiful hair, you know."

Ichihime ignored the compliment. She didn't feel beautiful at the moment (not that she ever did, really). "But Renji loved me."

"Probably," Yachiru admitted. "But it doesn't matter if you don't love him back. No matter what, I'm not going to get Byakushi to leave Kookoo-chan."

Ichihime broke out into the most ridiculous snorting laugh. "Did you just say that you love Kuchiki Taicho?"

"Of course I love Byakushi! Who doesn't?"

Ichihime shook her head. She would readily admit that at one point of time, she would have gladly pursued the Head of Kuchiki House as a potential spouse; and indeed that had been a potential possibility for many years prior to his sudden-and-completely-unexpected marriage to Shiba Kuukaku. Well, at least unexpected to everyone else. As his vice captain, Ichihime had the opportunity to see little exchanges from the two captains, and it was undeniable that Kuchiki Byakuya actually _enjoyed_ the poking and prodding and teasing that his wife gave him for being such a stuffy prince. It was actually really cute.

"But you can't be serious," Ichihime laughed. "I always thought that was a cute little gag. You seriously love him? Like, you would want him to marry you? C'mon, Yachiru-chan, I get the girly squeeing, but are you saying you have serious romantic interest in Kuchiki Taicho?"

"Well, not exactly," Yachiru admitted. "But that's not the point, Ichihime-chan. You can't feel guilty for never loving the guy. You tried, right?"

"...I'm not sure," the princess admitted. She wasn't sure she had ever really given Renji the opportunity. "Hey, wait a minute - did you actually just call me by my name?"

Yachiru finished tying the last strands of Ichihime's hair in a tight cobra knot, and then sat down in front of Ichihime with a cheery smile plastered to her face. The gesture was not lost on Ichihime. "When you're with Nikayui-san, do you think about Renji-kun?"

"...No."

"When you kissed him, were you thinking of Renji-kun?"

Ichihime's eyes bugged wide. Damnit, I knew that kiss in the restaraunt was a mistake. "Yachiru!"

"Well?"

"No!"

"When you sleep with Nikayui-san, do you think of Renji-kun?"

"What! ? No! Damnit, I mean, no, I've never slept with him! And for the record, I never slept with Renji, either!"

"Really? 'Cause we all thought you were banging each other all the time."

"_WHAT! ?_ Goddamnit, Yachiru-chan, are you fucking _kidding_ me! ? I'm a fucking princess! I can't just sleep with anybody, I have to be married first! I mean, sure, it's not like I've never kissed the guy, but for fuck's sake - excuse me, for the _lack_ of fuck's sake - we've kept our clothes on!" As if anyone, even Renji, would really want to get up-close-and-personal with my big fat hairy moles. Yeah, really libido-inspiring, she mentally muttered to herself.

"So there you go," Yachiru smiled cheekily, as though she had intended to coax out that information all along. "You never loved him, or otherwise you would have been married by now and making babies."

"Wha? Huh? Yachiru-chan - Where the fu-, er, hell did you pull that from! ?"

Yachiru laughed with a wink. "I'm not a little girl," she admitted, her voice suddenly sounding surprisingly coy.

"_Waaaaiiitt..._ whhaaaaattt?" Ichihime sputtered. "Whoooooooo- what-? Oh dear motherfucking lord, I think my head is going to explode."

Yachiru started cracking up. "Ken-chan taught me about where babies come from," she explained simply, her tone now much more reminiscent of the little girl most people recognized. "All parents explain these things to their children when they're old enough to understand," she said like a little schoolteacher giving a lesson to her students.

"Yeah, but the thought of you sleeping around is creepy," Ichihime muttered, realizing only afterwards that what she said was probably grossly offensive. Well, no more offensive then Yachiru pointing out Ichihime's face looked like a Maltese flag.

"No different than Shiro-chan and Karin-chan," Yachiru shrugged, not seeming to take any offense at Ichihime's remark. "Nobody here seems to think twice."

"True," Ichihime admitted, and realized Yachiru was right. Although, to be fair, Hitsugaya Toshiro was very much an adult; whereas Kusajishi Yachiru seemed to enjoy presenting herself as a little kid. "...But, even still - I mean, I don't need to pry, but... it's, uh, hard to imagine you in a relationship."

"Oh, I'm not," Yachiru said innocently, not saying any more about that particular subject. "But you should have a nice date with Nikayui-san. Don't feel bad if you're having a good time."

Ichihime sighed. It was amazing how doggedly persistent the little pink-haired terror could be. "Fine, okay, I got it. Now if I promise to give you chocolate, will you drop the subject? I'm getting weirded out over here."

Yachiru stood up with a frown. "Ceiling-Bonker said I can't have any sweets for at least another week."

" 'Ceiling-Bonker'?" Ichihime laughed. "I suppose you must be talking about Isane Fukutaicho."

"Are you going to bring Nikayui-san to her wedding?"

Ichihime thought about it. "To be honest, I don't even know if I'm invited. It's a small wedding, and I'm not particularly close with her. But if I was, I suppose I would bring Adame-san. I doubt he would be offended by the idea of being a guest at a commoner's wedding."

"Yay!" Yachiru cheered as she clapped and bounced up and down. "Hurray for Adame-kun!"

Ichihime smiled. It was good to see Yachiru getting back to normal. As if 'normal' was ever a word that could describe her.

"Go look in the mirror, Blondini! Is it okay?"

_"Wow,"_ Ichihime commented, surveying the elaborate patterns in the tightly bound rope of hair. The twists were tiny; perfectly tucked into place. Not a single strand frizzed or strayed; and the braid was even more beautiful than the royal style. It was elegant and illustrious; and gave Ichihime a dignified look of authority. "Yachiru-chan, you did an amazing job!"

"Hurray again!" Yachiru clapped. "Now go get ready for your big date!"

Ichihime hugged Yachiru tightly. "Thank you," she said. "Thanks for talking to me."

"You're welcome, Blondini," Yachiru giggled, but there was no mistaking the deep sincerity in her voice.

-:-

Nanao was sitting at her desk, filling out the mission paperwork. (Even when authorized, there were a lot of forms to fill out when you demolished lots of human infrastructure.) She was humming Norma (her favorite) when the door to her office burst open. Nanao was ready to provide Fuwu with her harshest stare for not knocking, but she held her tongue when it was none other than Hisagi.

"Sector 56, Building 12," Shuuhei urged her. "Contact is Hodo, subject is Godanduju; hostage situation with the potential for rioting - you've gotta go _now_!"

Nanao didn't need further convincing. She yanked off her blue haori and switched into the fastest shunpo she could. Bolting out the door, she left the paperwork on her desk in a chaotic pile.

* * *

_Act II begins! If you don't know what a Maltese flag looks like, just Google it. **Reviews, please!** Next chapter: An unexpected turn-to-twist._


	26. The Handoshi Goddess Returns

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

**_Translator's note: _**___'Hage' technically means 'Baldy' but is best translated here as 'Pain-in-the-ass'. 'Boke' is best translated as 'Airhead' or 'Ditz'. Both are relatively mild insults._

* * *

_"No, my father is most definitely **not** Kyoraku Shunsui."_  
_~Kyoraku Jun-Jidano,  
current head of the Kyoraku Family_

* * *

Jenkins pulled into the airstrip in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. After paying the taxi cab driver a handsome amount of cash for breaking several speed limits, Jenkins slipped into the airport terminal. After buying his ticket, he went off and found a quiet corner.

Pulling out his other cell phone - the one he didn't surrender to the shinigami captain - he dialed Tahiti and received the automated system. "Please identify yourself."

"Roy Jenkins, First Order, Quadrant Six."

"Challenge: Jumbalaya," came the other end of the line.

"Trackline Tamales," Jenkins answered, providing the corresponding passcode that indicated he was calling from a public place.

"You are authenticated with authorization level three. To where do you wish to route your call?"

"Jones," was all he said.

"Please wait," answered the automatic system, and he did just that.

Eventually, the deep rumble of a man's voice could be heard from the other end. "Jones speaking. Jenkins?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "We need an operations switch."

"Why?"

"Pawn."

"Smith?"

"Checkmate," Jenkins said quietly, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to him.

Jones let out a thoughtful hum. "Is the NATA salvageable?"

"Not a chance in hell, Boss. I saw the whole place go up in smoke. I'm at the airport in Harrisburg, I'm going to hitch a flight in now. Any news on your end?"

"Problems of our own," Jones explained.

"Gargoyles?" Jenkins asked.

"Gargoyles," Jones confirmed. "I'll explain you the situation when you get here. But that's not what bothers me."

"Don't tell me," Jenkins muttered. "Q?"

"Damn fucker," Jones nodded. "He's on his way to New York right now."

Jenkins looked around to make sure no one was watching him. "Not good. If he's running loose, who knows who could get to him before we could."

"No, not good at all," Jones sighed before switching topics. "Hughes, Roberts, Peterson, and Price are already here. The others are are already en route."

"A reunion," Jenkins laughed. "Can't believe all of us are still alive."

"Long live Kathura," Jones answered with a confident smile that could be seen even through the phone.

"Long live us all," Jenkins answered carefully. The last thing he needed was to announce to the TSA that an international terrorist with access to nuclear weapons was about to slip through their security.

-:-

Rukia sipped her tea. It was cold, weak, and cheap; she didn't care for it but it was hard to get shinigami food on Earth to begin with. Besides, Ichigo had shlepped it here just for her, and she didn't want to appear ungrateful when he had gone out of his way to get it for her. It was particularly thoughtful of him considering that his mind was so far elsewhere.

"I'm sorry, Rukia, I gotta run," Ichigo said, tying up his hakama, kisode and shihakusho before kissing her one last time. In just a few moments, he would be jumping back into his body and darting to the airport.

"S'okay," she smiled. It had been a routine rotation through the motions, despite the fact that Rukia knew it was pointless. They only had to wait a year and a half, and then they could really try again. But for some reason, a nagging gnawed at her. She didn't want to tell Ichigo about what had happened. She was worried that it would get their hopes up again, only to be met with disappointment. Better to keep trying until then, in case something unexpected would happen.

Pulling up her own shorts-like hakama that she wore underneath her shihakusho gown, Rukia felt less troubled or bothered to continue the charade. She at least had answers now. The anguish of her lost pregnancy was more prominent against the backdrop of miraculous odds at conception, but it was only a dull ache in her soul now. That was much better than the flowering agony and creeping chains of depression that had once dragged her into a place best described as Living Hell.

Now, it was just a numbers game, she thought. Drop the pants, raise the legs, moan a little bit to make sure it isn't too boring for her husband, and anticipate the same thing with minor variations five to six hours later. Lather, rinse, repeat. Sometimes, the moans were actually sincere, but most of the time both knew they weren't. It didn't matter. Ichigo nor Rukia were the type to give up, regardless of the situation.

"I'll meet you in Mexico," she noted as he grabbed his bag on the way out. He blew her one last kiss and went out to find his taxi.

Finishing her tea, Rukia's mind wandered to other pains. Ichigo was a mess; but he was at least manageable. Naga Toyuki, on the other hand, had been doing very poorly. Yoruichi had gladly taken her in, given her room and board, and was now working to convince Central 46 to pardon her. Rukia knew that this was not an easy game to play, seeing as how there was an NATA agent on the inside.

Despite the good news that Naga-san could return to her House after so many centuries, Kyon had reported that she was practically catatonic. She had ceased responding verbally at all; and she had refused to even read. She was still eating, but Kyon didn't think she was eating well - she would take only one bite of rice, chicken, broccoli, and a sip of water each meal - not enough by any measure, even for someone as small as she was. According to Kyon's opinion, Naga-san was probably in mourning of her own. Although he had only seen her together with John Smith a handful of times, it was clear that she cared for him, at least to some extent. Rukia didn't understand it at all - grieving was one thing; but Naga-san seemed to have completely shut down. It wasn't healthy.

Rukia couldn't imagine how hard it was for the two of them. Kyon had the most miserable life watching her suffer. Over the past few days, Rukia had learned that the NATA had originally hired him to take care of Naga-san. A Greek man who previously worked in an American school for autistic children, he was the perfect candidate to take care of her - except that he couldn't see or hear her. She was a shinigami, after all. Unlike the humans that Rukia was close with, most people on Earth had no idea that she even existed.

So they had completely phased him into the spirit realm using Smith's zanpakutou, Heaven's Will. Passing completely into the fifth dimension, Kyon was now trapped in the realm of spirits; unable to be seen or heard by nearly everyone in the human race. In the end, he had become just as much a prisoner as Naga-san. He was adjusting to life in Soul Society, but he wasn't used to the anachronistic lifestyle. Not having been familiar with Japanese culture to begin with, and lacking the gift of tongues that all shinigami had, it was hard for him to fit in inside the House of Shihoin. He knew both English and Greek, but the servants of the house only spoke Japanese; and without shinigami around to translate for him, he had a very difficult time being independent. Toyuki's general desire to be left alone (at least according to Kyon, for no one else could tell) had left him feeling empty and alone, and he was just as depressed as Toyuki was unresponsive.

The thoughts of their complicated relationship made her think of her own marriage. It was emotionally challenging and logistically complicated, but at least she and Ichigo could communicate easily. Although, thinking about it more deeply, she realized that once upon a time, she and Ichigo had many wordless conversations, too (back when they had time to experience them, at least). Perhaps she could understand why there might be actually be a deep, inseverable bond between Kyon and Naga Toyuki. Sometimes, words aren't what you need the most.

Rukia knew that lesson well.

Opening up a senkai gate, Rukia put the thoughts out of her mind. She had training with Unohana Sensei shortly, and as much as she wasn't looking forward to the humiliation of having her ass handed to her again, it was at least a good distraction.

-:-

All Rantao Kiku wanted to feel was comfortable, but at the moment, it just wasn't happening. She didn't feel suffocated, or boxed, or trapped, or duped or connived or any of the other things she supposed she should have felt. No, she just felt awkward. Like usual.

Shunsui was his typical charming self, friendly and easygoing. Laid back. Not worried about anything. Very casual. Normally, Kiku felt a little nervous around him - kind of like the nerdy girl in high school not believing she's on a date with the captain of the football team. But right now, she felt both distressed and distant, as though nothing was serious. That he wouldn't be able to take her seriously, or take them seriously. This had never bothered her before, but it bothered her now.

"Why did you agree to come with me, anyway?" she asked casually, trying to hide her mild confusion regarding what to do with him.

"When I found out you were going on a field mission to the real world with Akon, I thought you might prefer alternate company."

"Of course," she said politely, but wondered if she was stupid for agreeing to it. Akon was a chain-smoking dickhead, but he respected her as his commanding officer and that made it easy to work with him. Shunsui was definitely nicer company - they were supposedly dating, after all - but the run-in she had in his office with that other woman left her not so sure about what was going on, or if this was even a good idea.

Not that Kiku was ever good about these things. She was hopeless.

"So what are we looking for, Kiku-san?"

Rantao was put off by being called in the familiar for some reason; although he had been calling her this for a while now, so it wasn't fair of her to feel otherwise. She was at least grateful he didn't use that ridiculous -chan suffix like he did for most other women; although having spent so long in the United States, Kiku wasn't really all that sensitive about honorifics.

"Kiku-san?"

"Sorry," she smiled weakly. "Spacing out a bit."

Shunsui gave her a sideways glance from underneath his straw hat. "What's on your mind?"

It was then that Rantao unexpectedly lost her temper. "Are you an idiot, or are you just pretending?" Oh sweet apple pie, I did not just say that out loud, she thought, covering her mouth and realizing how she was a complete moron. Me and my big mouth.

"Just pretending," Kyoraku laughed heartily, not at all offended. Or if he was, he certainly didn't show it.

Rantao turned away in embarassment. "Sorry, I don't know what got into me."

"It's about Lisa-chan, ne?" he asked, taking the hint that it was time to explore the topic.

"...No," she lied.

"You're lying."

"...No, I'm not lying," she lied again.

"So then you must be pretending," he teased. The comment was met with an exasperated sigh.

Rantao was quiet for a few moments, completely lost as how to navigate herself out of this. "Who is she?"

Shunsui feigned being puzzled as they entered the abandoned warehouse in Uzbekhistan. "Hmm, I thought I introduced you - she was my vice captain over a century ago."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," she smiled easily. As awkward as she felt, it was so easy to slip into a carefree, lighthearted mood with him. He didn't carry the weight of his station like the imposing Kuchikis, the burning intensity of Lieutenant Banzo, or the hard, stern aura of Shunsui's daughter Ise. She wondered if that was a good thing - should captains be so lax with their demeanor? Urahara was like that, too; but Urahara and Rantao were cut from a similar cloth; science first and everything else later. Maybe it wasn't a big deal, but Rantao wondered if it would be easier if he was more uptight, as illogical as that sounds.

"So what is it that you want to know?"

"Kyoraku-san," she began, almost forgetting the important honorific, "To be honest, I don't even know why I care. I'm sorry, forget it."

Shunsui eyed her carefully, debating in his mind how to proceed. "I see you changed your glasses. What happened to the other ones?"

Rantao was secretly ashamed as she absentmindedly readjusted the new pair of boxy frames. The lenses were phony, just like how she felt at the moment. "The other ones broke," she answered, her head somewhere else.

"So are we there yet?"

Rantao was relieved to have a change in the discussion. "We have to go to the 3rd floor of the warehouse."

"Lead the way, then," he offered graciously with a smile, and Rantao couldn't help but feel like he was sweeping her off her feet like she was Cinderella before the prince. He really can be charming, she thought. If he didn't seem so smarmy other times.

They climbed the stairs in silence. In theory, they could have used shunpo; but neither had a need and the atmosphere didn't call for it. The abandoned warehouse was clearly a hiding spot for NATA materials, as reiatsu traces of spirit-altered matter was seeping out every wall and crate. The warehouse itself was also not quite in enough disrepair to be truly abandoned, either.

"Which room?" he asked.

Kiku, who had memorized the floor plan and the precise location of Heaven's Will prior to the field mission, pointed to a cargo vault down the left wing of the warehouse.

"I'll race you there," Shunsui suggested, a lazy grin emerging on his face.

Kiku looked at him like he was speaking pig latin. "Did you ever grow up?" she asked, teasing.

"I'll only tell you the answer if you beat me there!" and he darted off.

Ugh, Kiku sighed with an amused smile. How infantile. Bursting off in her own shunpo (which was decent but by no means capable of keeping up with him), she flickered off to the end of the hallway to find him leaning on the door to the room in question.

"You win," he said.

"Uh, I don't get it."

"You win," he explained. "I cheated, so you win."

His goofy smile was indeed affecting, and Kiku found it spread across her own face. "And just exactly how did you cheat?"

"I used shunpo, of course."

"Infallible logic," she retorted with a cheeky grin, "given that I did the same."

"Ah, yes, but you don't know the rules. Rule 37.2.6.b says that men can't use shunpo when racing women. It never says anything about forbidding shunpo for ladies. Especially pretty ones."

"And just where is this rulebook you are referring to?"

"My bedroom," he answered casually. "You're welcome to come and read it any time you like."

Kiku flushed a neon pink as she stumbled to come up with an intelligent response. "Um, uh, the zanpakutou is right in here. Let's, ah, go get it, okay?"

"Of course," he smiled, not giving any hint of feeling refused. Kiku had to hand it to him, he was both patient and persistent. It was no wonder he was a womanizer; he had the right temperament and never seemed to lose even a drop of self-confidence.

Okay, seventh row on the left, second box from the bottom, Kiku reminded herself. She repeated the direction in her mind over and over again, so as not to become distracted with the fluttery nervousness that had entered through her bellybutton. "Ah, Kyoraku-san, this one," she gestured. "Can you get it for me?"

"You're sure it's this one?" he asked, confused. "I mean, there's a lot of boxes in here, and that one is almost all the way at the bottom."

"I'm sure," she replied tersely, too emotionally befuddled to say anything else.

Shunsui shrugged before setting down his hat, pink kimono, and his white haori on a nearby stack of crates. He then got to work, clearing and moving boxes this way and that in order to make a path for the one that they were looking for.

Kiku hadn't really thought this out too well in advance, for if she had, she would have realized that the end result would be staring. Yes, lots of staring. And indeed, she stared. Rantao Kiku stared with a stare to end all stares as Kyoraku worked up a sweat. It trickled down his face and over his chest, and along with his earlier comment, Rantao thought she was going to need to find a bathroom to, uh, collect herself.

_Dear heavens, Madamoiselle, it has been too long. We should just sleep with him and let him toss us away already. It's not like he could keep us. He'll find someone else, that's what they all say. He's not the type to settle down._

Ugh, stop it. Just stop. You don't say things like that, Occulus. Stop. You're not helping.

"Here," Shunsui groaned as he heaved the crate right in front of her. He smelled of musk and hoary perspiration, and it was making Kiku's mouth water.

"T-t-t-thanks," she stuttered, trying to take her eyes of his chest and make eye contact. She was failing miserably, of course, like she did with most things.

_Oh, that looks delicious._

Occulus?

_Yes, Mon Cherie?_

Be quiet!

Cracking open the case with a simple kido spell, both the 8th division captain and the 12th division lieutenant were surprised by what they found. It was indeed something that might vaguely be called a sword. But for a sword, but it was completely disproportionate. Both the hilt and the blade were about two feet long, making it easily the most clumsy grip either had ever seen. But what made it even more absurd was that the straight tsurugi blade was only an inch wide while the hilt was almost four inches in diameter - too large to wrap one's fingers around it. The crossguard was a hexagonal cup - but it was curved up; away from the hand instead of downwards to protect it. It was, in a word, _bizarre._

"That is the ugliest sword I have ever seen in my entire life," Shunsui laughed.

Kiku was too speechless to verbally respond, so she merely nodded as she lifted up the sword. Hello?

_OH PRAISE THE FATESHAPER AND BLESS THE MASTER OF DESTINY, SOMEONE HAS GOTTEN ME OUT OF THIS DREADED BOX!_

Rantao handed Shunsui the zanpakutou with muttered impatience. "Here, you take it."

Shunsui took the sword and was briefly startled as the zanpakutou obviously started speaking to him. "It's alive," he commented.

"Yep," Kiku said simply, not caring one way or another. She had enough of epsilon blades. Enough to last several lifetimes worth of shame. "Alright, that's what we're here for. C'mon, let's go."

Shunsui didn't seem to be eager to move too quickly. "He says you don't like me, you know," he teased. "I think he's jealous."

Rantao didn't seem to think it was funny.

"Kiku-san, talk to me, ne? You're not yourself today."

"Whatever," she said, feeling pissy all of a sudden, but it passed when he put his hand on her shoulder and made her look him in the eyes.

"Please don't shut me out, Kiku-san," he said seriously. "I may have a reputation that I can't get rid of, but believe it or not I'm in this for real. It's not going to work if you don't tell me what's bothering you."

Tears began to well up in her cheap resin frames. "Is that what you tell all the women who won't sleep with you? For heaven's sake, Shunsui, I can't do it. I'm a delicate woman with a pathetically bad sense of judgement. I heard all the rumors and all the stories, and I _still_ didn't have the common sense to avoid you like the plague? And here I am, getting seduced by yet another captain and-"

Oh _shit._ I did not just-

_You were not supposed to say anything about that, Mon Cherie._

Yeah, well, _SHUT UP YOU CHEAP PIECE OF HORNY CANADIAN STEEL_ and let me lose my dignity, career, and life all because of my big fat mouth. ALRIGHT, _**CANUCK?**_

_Eh, uh, ah - au revoir, ma dame,_ Occulus Omnispectivus squeaked before making a quick exit. If it wasn't for the fact that Occulus was just as meek as Rantao was, she would have been offended.

"...'Another captain'?" Shunsui asked in bewilderment.

Rantao Kiku couldn't say another word. In tears, she turned on her heel and fled from the room, as fast as her flash steps could carry her.

-:-

In the bed across from Hiyori, Orihime awoke with a violent cough. She had been doing better since they made it into Soul Society, but today was just not a good day; and she had spent most of it in bed.

"You alright over there, Orihime-chan?"

Orihime smiled weakly. "Yeah, I guess."

"Your hair is coming back in, you know."

"It'll take years until it will look nice again, though," Orihime frowned, coughing again.

"Eh, don't say that," Hiyori shrugged. "It's got to be better than nothing."

Orihime looked askance. It was an uncomfortable topic.

Hiyori could tell she misspoke, but her embarassment was interrupted by her husband's arrival. As usual, it was as loud and intrusive as physics could possibly allow. "Hey ladies! I managed to get the kitchen over in the 4th to cook us up some burgers and fries!"

Orihime's eyes lit up. "Oooh! Did you get me one with eel skins and red bean paste?"

Shinji gave the nearly-bald woman a look of incredible confusion. "Uh, no. Just bacon, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and onions."

"Oh well," Orihime shrugged as Shinji tossed her a paper-wrapped double bacon cheeseburger. "I'm hungry enough to eat anything."

"Thanks, Shinji," Hiyori noted with a kiss on the cheek to accompany it. She unwrapped her own hamburger - a more modest quarter-pounder with fried onions and ketchup - and hungrily took a large bite.

"Hey, look at that, she's being nice to me today!" Shinji teased.

"Yeah, yeah, just feed me stuff that Unohana-san would kill me for eating. You know I'm gonna have to go through like three dialysis sessions to get this greasy crap out of me, you know."

Shinji was concerned. "I'm sorry, should I have got something else?"

"Nah," she smiled. "It's totally worth it."

Shinji laughed. Whispering in her ear, "Hey, you think maybe we could find somewhere by ourselves tonight?"

Hiyori gave him a furtive glance. It had been a while since they had some privacy, and Hiyori, too, was itching for a little action. True, sex was quite a bit different for them considering that her piece of the equation was completely synthetic, but the human need for physical affection was not inhibited by such minor inconveniences. They made it work for both of them. "Where's Ishida?" she whispered. "Get him to take Orihime-chan out on a nice date. He's not exactly busy here in Soul Society. He can't be up to anything interesting."

"But he doesn't have any money," Shinji frowned. "They don't use yen here, you know."

"So give him some!"

"But I don't have any money, either!" he whined.

"Ask Kuchiki-san or something, I'm sure she or Ichigo could spare some coin."

"I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"...It's against the man code!"

" 'Man code'?"

"Yes, man code!"

"Oi, _hage_! Tell him to take her for a walk, then! Whatever, you want some tonight? Figure it out!"

"Hirako-san, Hiyori-chan - is everything okay?" Orihime asked, interrupting their escalating clash of whispers. "I thought you were hungry...?"

Hiyori instantly felt bad. She shouldn't have said that with Orihime around, it was horribly insensitive. She tried to downplay it. "Shinji's just bein' a dickhead, as usual," Hiyori replied nonchalantly. "No big deal."

"See? She's back to being mean," he frowned again.

"_Boke_," she muttered, switching insults. "Go tell Ishida that Orihime's up and he should come get some chow."

"Yeah, yeah," Shinji said as he gave Hiyori another kiss before leaving. She gave him a good smack on the ass, not entirely unaffectionate, and it made Orihime giggle.

"You guys make a cute couple," Orihime said cheerily, her strength returning from the 2000-calorie sandwich. She hadn't eaten anything like this in a long, long time; and it tasted sooooo good.

"Eh," Hiyori replied, too busy chomping the tasty-but-practically-toxic meat-in-a-bun.

"...Do you think you're going to stay here?" Orihime bravely inquired in between bites.

Hiyori stole a glance out the window; the last rays of sun from the early evening poking through her blond bangs and accentuating her random splatters of freckles. "I don't know," she said. "I miss the kind of life we had on Earth, you know? The music, the movies - it was fun. It's not exactly lively around here, know what I mean?"

Orihime nodded in understanding as she took a monstrous bite of her overstuffed cheeseburger. "What about the others?"

"I don't know, but I would guess Kensei and Mashiro-kun would feel the same way. But Lisa-san might stay."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"She's not too attached either way," Hiyori shrugged. "With Love, Rose, and Hachi all gone, it's just her and us two couples. A bit awkward for her, if you ask me."

"What would she do if she stayed here?"

"No idea," Hiyori said, her mouth full of hamburger. "Maybe work in the library, like she used to. I'm not too close with her, so I don't know what she's thinking. All I know is that she's always PMSing all the time."

Orihime chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Orihime giggled. "I was just thinking about something ridiculous."

"What?"

"Well, given all the bad luck we've met in life, at least we don't have to deal with cramps."

Hiyori laughed and hurled a french fry at her fellow patient. "Yeah, I guess blessings come in big and small." Although inside, Hiyori hoped that Orihime's period would come back now that she was done with chemo. Hiyori would certainly rather have a uterus, even if it meant getting menstrual cramps every now and then.

"Ooh, that's good," Orihime said, smacking her lips as she swallowed the greasy strip of potato. "Pass me some more of those!"

Hiyori laughed as she tossed over a bag of fries. Orihime was definitely getting better.

-:-

_"Convocare il nonio cerchio del'inferno - **bankai**,"_ Nanao whispered as she passed the deserted sector 19 on her way through the northwestern districts of the Rukongai. She flared her massive reiatsu, so that by the time the gate to Hell finished opening, Miyako would be able to trace her.

Sure enough, within two minutes, her chief Handoshi sergeant and good friend Shiba Miyako was flashing side by side with her. Nanao's shunpo was fairly slow for someone of captain rank or higher, so she knew Miyako wouldn't have trouble catching up.

"What's the situation, Shosho-sama?"

"Yakuza holding a man named Godanduju prisoner," she explained. Hisagi had called her cell phone to fill her in after she left, not wanting her to be late. "You know I need you for this; we discussed it." Nanao hated to pull rank and give orders to Miyako, but the situation called for it.

Miyako looked away, slightly saddened. "You're really going to do this, huh?"

"You're my conscience here," Nanao clarified. "I'm not going through with this unless you agree with me."

Miyako nodded, not necessarily relieved but at least understanding that Nanao was not relying on her own biased judgement. "Hai, Shosho-sama."

"Good luck to us," Nanao prayed.

"Yes," Miyako smiled. "Good luck to all of us."

-:-

"Ichihime-sama, Nikayui-dono has arrived," her majordomo, Makina, announced. Despite her youth and general inexperience, Hoshimura Makina had proven to be an excellent head of staff. Ichihime had long been glad that she had fired that asshole Mikoro and replaced him with someone who had a spine. Ichihime had few friends outside of the Gotei 13, and Makina made for a good confidant who could tell her when she was being a jerk.

"Please tell him I'll be down in a few minutes. How do I look?"

Makina smiled. "Do you want my honest answer, or the one you should hear from your servant?"

"Makina-san," Ichihime glared. "Be honest. You know I hate that sycophantic shit."

She smirked. "Then, truth be told, Ichihime-sama - you look exquisite. Like that which is expected of a Head of House."

Ichihime skeptically glanced again in the mirror. Her sheen, silky bright blonde strands were indeed Head-of-House-worthy, tied up in the elaborate microbraided rope that Yachiru had done, and her short bangs in the front were neatly combed outwards. Her kimono was a gleaming white cloth, with gold threads woven into neat stripes at random angles throughout. The Banzo family crest was embroidered across the left breast. Her normal earrings, and set of gold and silver hoops, had been replaced with her heirloom diamond studs.

Shiji, normally placed in a leather holster-sheath strapped to her right thigh, was instead into a crisp, lacquered ebony wooden tanto scabbard that Ichihime had actually made herself. It was tucked horizontally through her obi knot across her waist in the back, and it was a properly feminine manner to carry a deadly weapon. Her obi itself was a brilliant royal blue with velvet edges, and although Ichihime had tied it herself, she had actually done a pretty good job. I guess the "noble's education" and all that crap was actually worth something, she thought.

She did not opt for much makeup. No matter how elegant she was supposed to look, if Adame-san was going to fall for her, he needed to see her real face; with its splotchy, discolored red skin across the entire left side, open and exposed to the world in all its eccentricity. Yet, still, she had at least chosen to wear lipstick; a subtle rosy pink that contrasted nicely with both sides of her face; and it helped to soften the harshness of her normally hideous railroaded complexion.

Determining exactly how much she should have left her kimono open had been an endless debate. Ichihime had a bust that was only slightly more prominent than average, but overall she had an attractive figure; in fact it was the only naturally attractive thing about her. While some other nameless Heads of House may not have cared, Ichihime firmly believed that it was undignified and inappropriate to have her boobs hanging out, bouncing and jiggling every which way. (Ichihime may have been a sass, but she wasn't tasteless.) On the other hand, Ichihime had wanted to at least look feminine and as attractive as possible, no matter how hopeless that was. So she had settled (on Makina's advice) to leave a modest, unrevealing v-neck opening that ran along her collarbones; enough to let a simple platinum chain with sapphire pendant be visible. In hindsight, it had proven to be a wise decision; since the pendant matched her obi and provided a sense of completeness to her outfit.

Her hands and feet had been manicured - she couldn't even remember the last time she had them done - and her nails matched the rose color of her lipstick. She wore traditional Japanese sandals made out of birchwood with cork inserts. The straps were a thick woven wool that were deliberately made to match her white kimono, and they were a perfect blend of elegance and comfort.

All together, Ichihime did indeed look like a proper Head of House, and it was one of the few times that she felt her aura and presentation reflected her status. It was a conscious feeling of authority and dignity; a moment where Ichihime was actually proud of her nobility, if even only a little.

And, to her surprise, she could even see beauty in it. It was a beauty that any one individual, no matter their status in society, could own. It was a grace that could even be found in the poorest, most bad-luck-stricken beggar of the streets; a beauty that came from one's self-confidence. Ichihime truly felt like she was being told the truth - Makina hadn't lied to her at all. Makina hadn't told her that she was beautiful. No, Makina had told her she looked exquisite; and she did. And because it was true, and because Ichihime believed it herself, it did indeed - if only ever so slightly - make her beautiful.

It was something she had never quite achieved before.

"Thank you," Ichihime said, her voice deeply laden with gratitude.

"I will inform Adame-san that you will be with him shortly," Makina bowed, and made haste to meet the guest.

Ichihime took a small satchel that she had prepared in case her makeup needed touch ups, and carefully tucked it into the wide, tight obi knot just underneath her zanpakutou. Checking one last time that she could easily draw her tanto if she needed, she took a deep breath. She didn't expect any trouble, and despite her specialization in close-range combat, she was highly skilled in kido spells up through level 35. With reiatsu levels like hers, that really would be more than enough.

But Ichihime never liked to leave home without Shiji. There was something about having a tangible reminder with her at all times that, in her heart, she was a shinigami first and a princess second.

_Hime-sama?_

Yes, Shiji?

_Don't forget your princess speech. This is an important date._

The edges of Ichihime's mouth slowly crept upwards as she took one last look in the mirror. You know what, Shiji? I don't think it's going to be so hard this time.

* * *

_**Reviews, please!** Ah, now we begin to understand what's **really** going on. Bonus points if you know where the name Hoshimura Makina is from. And it seems no one got the Ryogi Shiki reference from last chapter, either; so I'm going to have to start pointing them out. (Like the fact that Kuchiki Rukia from Bleach and Nagato Yuki from Haruhi Suzumiya share both the same English voice actress.) At least many of you got the Roy Mustang reference a while back. :)_

_**Next chapter:** Q orders pizza. Sounds epic, I know. Just wait and see._


	27. Hostage Crisis

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

**_Author's note: _**_For those of you not familiar with firearms, a typical shotgun uses a 12 gauge bullet, which is about 18.5mm in diameter._

* * *

_"Love is complicated, Ukitake-sama. It never resembles the naive tales one reads about in even the best of stories."_  
_~Kuchiki Rukia to Ukitake Jushiro,_  
_after her promotion to vice captain ten years ago in 'Save This For Kuchiki'_

* * *

"Hodo-san, is this Godanduju?" Nanao asked her contact.

"Hai, Shinigami-sama," the man answered. He made it a policy never to know their names. It was far harder to trace things that way.

The man behind bars turned to look at them. "Hey, Hodo-san, I thought I asked you to bring me blonde wenches," he sneered.

"Lovely," Miyako remarked with a roll of her eyes. Sarcasm was not something she generally resorted to, but some things were just too much, even for her.

"Why has he been imprisoned?"

"Murder," Hodo answered the woman in glasses. "Killed his wife by beating her to death with the leg of a chair."

"Does he have a defense?" Miyako asked.

"Clumsy damn bitch spilled the soup in my lap one too many times! She was doing it on purpose, I tell you! She was trying to burn my balls off!" Godanduju interjected.

"Wow, you really are an attractive find," muttered Miyako, shaking her head.

"That's his only defense?" Nanao asked, wanting to get through the formalities as much as possible.

"Yep. We tried him, found him guilty, sentenced him to death."

Nanao had no concern for whether or not the trial had actually been fair. That wasn't what she was here for. "But you can't execute him because of the hostage?"

"That's right, Shinigami-sama. He claims if we kill him, he can't tell us where the kid is. We don't know if he's lying or not."

"Let me guess," Nanao reasoned. "He wants to be pardoned if he cooperates."

"You got it," Hodo confirmed. "His life for the kid's life."

Nanao looked at Miyako, and the two nodded in understanding. Turning back to Hodo, she spoke with a slight edge of sedition in her voice. "Hodo-san, I think we need a few minutes with Godanduju-san over here. Do you think you could give us some privacy?"

"That's right, bitches, come in here and suck me good!" Godanduju laughed.

Hodo-san glared at the incorrigible man and nodded. "Take as much time as you need." With that, he left and shut the door behind him, and Nanao sealed it with kido.

Miyako didn't waste any time. Taking out her katana, she went straight into shikai. "Perceive, Clara."

Ten seconds later, Miyako was so angry she was twitching, and Godanduju was as still as a statue. Nanao rarely saw the saintly woman ever get this edgy. "What's going on?"

"Left at a church two days ago - the Following of the Circle nearby in sector 58," Miyako explained.

"Two days ago was Festere," Nanao reasoned. "Nearly impossible that nobody noticed."

"Yes; he was worried that otherwise he wouldn't have a fair exchange for his freedom."

"So what's the verdict?"

Miyako's face turned dark. "Second circle, at least. He could even go all the way to Fourth."

Nanao breathed a sigh of relief. "So you green light the plan?"

"They've already sentenced him to death, right?" Miyakoy mused. After a moment, the Handoshi sergeant gave Nanao her trademark hypnotic smile-that-could-charm-the-world. "Fate works in funny ways," she contemplated out loud. "Let's do this."

-:-

More than any other time in his life, Q. Quentin Yuim was happy to be in his apartment and on the john. DeLancy Street - home sweet home.

It had been a rough ride. He had barely escaped. That scarfed midget had almost killed him. And then he had barely avoided being incinerated by not one, but _two_ explosions by captain-class shinigami. You would think he would know better by now.

Finishing his business, Q stripped his suit and other clothes off, exchanging them all for something more comfortable. He then immediately proceeded to shave his head. It was the best he could do at the moment to alter his appearance.

Satisfied for the time being, he called to order a pizza with every topping he could think of. He had enough money stashed away to hold out for quite some time, but without a lab, he had no way to continue his research. Most of his equipment had been in the Doverfield vaults; now lost to oblivion of ash and cinder. He would need to find a new lab, and the only ones he could think of that already had the equipment he needed were Area 59 in Utah, or the University of Transylvania.

It would take a lot of bribe money to even get close to Area 59. US government officials knew all about Area 59 and didn't let humans go there; it would take a lot of green-paper-influence to convince them otherwise. Q was rolling in dough, but for _that,_ Q wasn't sure he had enough. Even if he did, he would then need to overthrow the shinigami there. They would be second-rate fighters, at best; but there were at least fifty of them there. Not including the fact that it would be simple for them to get backup - a whole slew of captains could descend on the lab in ten minutes. No; it wasn't a viable plan.

Q concluded that he would have to go to Romania. Trying to get into Europe during wartime would be tricky, but he could manage that. Still, though - _Romania_? What a pain. You know how hard it is to get a decent pizza in Romania? You would think by now that they could figure out how to make an acceptable crust and a passable sauce. Although, thinking about it some more, at least his dollars would go pretty far there. Maybe he could have some good pizza flown in from Tuscany or something.

He had been _so_ close. So unbelievably close. He had gotten everything he needed from Subject Alpha; but Subject Gamma shattering her zanpakutou had been a major blow. He hadn't gotten very far with Subject Beta - the side effects of his initial experimentation had been catastrophic. The old man - Sasukibi Shojiro, or whatever the loser's name was - hadn't lasted more than ten minutes. It had been both a success and a failure by Q's standards. On the one hand, he had learned at least twenty different things that wouldn't work. On the other hand, getting access to experimentation subjects was exceedingly difficult.

Most shinigami he had been able to capture in the field didn't have shikai; or if they did, their reiatsu was too weak for them to endure even the preparatory steps. He could barely get them to survive a zanpakutou dissassembly.

Q's lengthy musings were interrupted when he got a phone call on his house line.

He hoped there wasn't a problem with the pizza. He was hungry. "Hello?"

"Why, hullo there, I's be a lookin' fer a certain Mista Kyoo Kontin Uum. Izz he in right now, maybes?"

"Morgan," Q grimaced. "You little shit."

"Nows thats nots tha ways yoos supposed ta be answerin' tha phone," came the ridiculous drawl on the other end. "So I suppose yoos be a-realizin' thats we's knows wheres ya ah right now."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Wells now, if I be a-doin' that, I's couldn't be aimin' a 76mm Gaussian rifle at yer head now, could I?"

**_SHIT!_**

Q dived for the floor as the huge flare-infused bullets - ones he had invented for hollow killing, talk about the irony - pounded through his apartment windows with a shattering, eardrum-ripping crack. Wood and concrete splintered as the apartment was bombarded with explosive rounds that left shotgun-blast like holes in the wall.

_That motherfucking Morgan!_ Q swore. He managed to crawl under the hailstorm of masonry dust being chipped away from skull-thundering _THWACK THWACK THWACK_ of the giant bullets tearing through the walls, furniture, and even ripping through his refridgerator. The zanpakutou he smuggled out of the NATA chaos was nearby by the door, and he managed to swipe it from its location before yanking open his secret escape hatch in the floor.

Snaking feetfirst into the secret tunnel that led to the NYC sewer system, Q yanked the wooden floorboard cover shut as a bookshelf collapsed over it.

Whew, he sighed. Then his cellphone rang.

Thank Me, it's just the pizza guy. "Hello?"

"Hey, did you order a pie with everything? Are you gonna buzz me in?"

"Uh, yeah, I did, but, I'm, uh, a bit indisposed at the moment."

"Well sorry buddy, but I'm not sticking around. I just heard gunshots," the annoyed delivery man said.

"Uh, can you just, uh, leave it by the door and I'll come down and get it in a few minutes?" Q suggested.

"Whatever," the pizza guy muttered, apparently annoyed that he was going to miss out on a tip.

Q started to thank him, but the delivery guy had already hung up. "Just great," Q muttered.

Then his stomach grumbled.

"Fucking fantastic," Q swore again when his cellphone rang again. This time, the caller ID said it was Morgan. Shit.

Fuck, it was shit _squared._

"Yoos not bein' a nice customa, Mista Uum. Yoos should've cancelled that pizza orda, dontcha think?"

"Fuck you, Morgan! I want my sword back, you little fucktard! One of these days, I'm going to make you lick the shit clean off my ass, you annoying fuck!"

"Izzat so? I guessitz good ta hear," he chuckled. "It means we'll be a-meetin' soona o' later, then."

"You better watch your ass," Q threatened. "Or your going to wake up one day and discover that you died and were reincarnated as a frog!"

"Sherrrr, sherrrr," the drawl dismissed. "But I's gots advice fer ya, Kyoo."

"And what's that, you little fucker who sucks his mom's cock?"

Morgan chuckled, unfazed. "I addvize that ya be a-watchin' out fer shinigami wit' fancy swords." _Click._

Q threw his phone in anger as hard as he could into the stone wall of the sewer entrance shaft. It shattered in a thousand pieces. He hated when that ass got the last word.

Morgan, you're dead meat. I'm going to dissect you and piss on your insides, you little shit!

-:-

"Kiku-san, wait!"

Just leave me alone, she thought as she flashed as fast as she could in no particular direction. Let me go off and die somewhere. I'm not worth the trouble.

It took a few minutes, but Kyoraku's far superior shunpo brought him in range to break her steps, and she collided right into his sweaty chest. His embrace was immediate; wrapping his arms around so that she wouldn't crash backwards onto her butt. The end result was now that she was immersed in his scent, and it was not helping her resolve to run away.

She hesitated, and in better judgement, gently separated herself. She needed air; space to think clearly. She could not do so with him wrapped around her like that, especially not after his earlier overtures. Until then, their relationship had been romantic but quite tame and orderly, almost old-fashioned. She was the quiet, timid damsel; he the chivalrous gentleman. They had gone on walks through the park where he would recite random poetry from all over the world, in any number of languages modern and forgotten. He would tell her about all that had transpired in this place or that; how the architecture had changed to reflect the Edo period in Japan. How it had supposedly once been very ancient Mongolian, when Ho Shin Yang had been Soutaicho. Some hand holding might be involved, with sly glances over red wine at a nice restaurant. Occasionally, she had given him a kiss on the cheek when he dropped her off at her apartment in the 12th division surveillance tower. Once or twice, she let him get in a real kiss, even. The basic courting, where Rantao Kiku was simply flattered that she could hold such a handsome man's attention.

It wasn't that Kiku didn't think she was attractive. She knew she was. It was that she never seemed to have the time to pursue such matters before. The slow, old-fashioned pace of courtship was easy on her. This, though, was just too much. Succumbing to the seduction of a one night stand was something she could deal with, especially if she never had to see the man again. Falling into the charms of Kyoraku Shunsui, though, as much as she really did want to, was not necessarily a good idea.

"Kiku-san," Kyoraku prodded gently. "Let's sit down and talk about it."

Frustrated with her inability to hold her resolve, she reluctantly agreed; and he gestured to a small ledge. They sat down, but the silence remained.

"Why did you run away?"

Rantao couldn't speak. She was too paralyzed with confused emotion.

"I'm sorry if I came on a little strong," he offered, trying to get her to open up. "I'm not very good at this."

" 'Not good at this?' _What?_ Isn't that a little disingenuous given your reputation?"

"Not good at serious relationships," he explained. "Charming women is easy. It's the sincerity part that I have a hard time with."

"Well, gosh golly gee, that inspires a whole lot of confidence," Kiku snorted. "How very comforting of you."

Kyoraku shrugged. "I've only met three women in my life that I've wanted something other than sex," he said casually, like he wasn't confessing anything. "And in the first two cases, I hopelessly screwed up."

Rantao just stared at him in mild disgust for a solid minute before breaking the silence. "I assume you're going to explain yourself, right? Because that's not exactly something women look for in a man."

Shunsui chuckled. "Lisa-chan was my vice captain, and we had a thing. It went on for a while. But I wasn't a good partner or a good captain back then, and I let her go off on a mission that ruined her life. Ten years ago, I had the rare chance to undo the damage, but I didn't. I was too self-absorbed with Nanao-chan, the only woman that could make a father out of me. I still wasn't a good captain, and I'm still not a good father - but I learned enough to try and undo my mistakes the second time around, because I love Nanao-chan. She's been under my care since she came to Soul Society as a six-year-old girl, and the only thing I want from her right now is for her to actually be proud of her father rather than be ashamed of him."

"And who's the third woman you speak of?" Rantao inquired suspiciously. "Me? Is that some kind of tripe all the other women believe?"

Shunsui sighed. "I'm trying to be as honest and open as I can," he said defeatedly. "I can't erase history, but I can learn from it."

"Pardon me if I'm skeptical," she retorted.

"And you have every right to be," he replied sincerely. "Which is why I'm sorry. I can't be up to those kind of antics if I'm going to convince you that I'm in this for the long haul. I'm sorry, I really am."

Kiku hesitatingly accepted his apology. It was fair. He wanted her to see the trurth - what he believed to be the truth, anyway - and as long as he knew that he had to earn it, she would have to give him the opportunity. "...Fine," she acknowledged reluctantly. "But I still don't believe a word of what you're telling me, even if you do. You're trying to tell me that I'm some special person like your vice captain, or your daughter? People you have lots of history with? Ise-san was _also _your vice captain; you worked closely with these people every day. You _had_ to take things seriously. You couldn't just forget this Lisa-san persone afterwards; you would have to look her in the eye the next day."

He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued. "But me? I'm just another woman out there. Just another _nobody_," she confessed, feeling very low of herself at the moment. "C'mon, you expect me to believe that I'm someone special in your future? You expect me to believe that it's 'love at first sight'? How is it that you can go out and get any woman you want, but I'm the one you want to keep? It just doesn't add up. I may be terribly desperate, Shunsui, but I'm not naive. You can't possibly think I'm going to believe that somehow, I'm magically different than all the vapid-headed bimbos you've gotten a one night stand out of. Be honest with me, Shunsui. How do you expect me to take what you're saying seriously?"

Kyoraku bit his lip. This was not a question he really wanted to answer, but he knew he had to. "Well, I guess this is an opportunity to prove my sincerity, because if I didn't really mean it, I wouldn't have to tell you the truth. And the truth is pretty rotten." He knew that was not something she expected to hear, and her expression softened in anticipation.

But only for a moment. Her bitter skepticism was soon to return. "Just what I wanted to hear," she muttered.

Shunsui smiled weakly. He _really_ didn't want to have this conversation, but he was knee deep in it and had no choice. "The truth is, Kiku-san, is that for too long, I've been a pretty big disgrace to my family. To my family name, and more important, to Nanao-chan. The womanizing, the sleeping around - it's fun and all, but it's really not supposed to be the way a captain of the Gotei 13 - and a descendant of the Kyoraku family - should behave. For example, my niece, Ichihime-chan, is looking to get married. If I didn't have such a terrible reputation, as her only living kin, I would have been the one to hand her off. But it won't happen - and even if she asked me, I couldn't accept it or it would be a detriment to her honor."

"...Shunsui-san," she interrupted. "What does this have to do with me?"

"I'm getting to that part," he said reluctantly. "You see, you're a good woman, Kiku-san. A good, nice, respectable, honorable woman - a woman who's too good for me. Not some money-grubbing whore looking to wiggle her way into the lap of noble luxury, not some stuck-up noble lady who probably wouldn't care about anything but the prestige, not some cheap trick who just wants a night of fun. The rotten truth is, Kiku-san, that it's because I want someone who Nanao-chan would approve of, instead of someone whom I deserve. Someone who Lisa-chan would actually respect.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Kiku-san. You're an attractive woman, but I've met lots of very beautiful women in my life. I've met lots of women who were mysterious and fascinating and exciting and exotic. I've also met lots of women whose interests I could actually understand. If someone were to ask me to pick anyone I could for a one-time evening adventure, I wouldn't say that you would be the first person that would come to mind."

Rantao clearly looked offended, but he cut her off before she could comment. "Now hold on, it's only fair I tell you that, because I'm trying to be serious about my intentions here. You want the truth, you need to hear me out, alright?"

"Fine," she muttered reluctantly.

Shunsui sighed, not sure where to pick up again. His flow had been broken and he needed to get back on track. "A fun night with a supermodel is just a single night; it is what it is. Fun is fun, but that doesn't mean that's where my system of values comes from. No matter what anyone says, I value friends and family the most. Ukitake Taicho and I have been best friends for centuries. Nanao-chan is someone who is so important to me that I can't even explain it. I love these people, Kiku-san, and their opinions matter to me."

He decided to touch upon her earlier concerns, realizing that Shunsui would probably have to explain it sooner or later anyway. "And although Lisa-san isn't part of my life anymore, she used to be; and probably still should be. If I was a better father and a better captain, Nanao-chan would be calling her Mama and things would have turned out very different for all three of us. Yes, she was my vice captain, but more importantly, she's the one who found Nanao-chan, named her, enrolled her in Shinou Academy, and eventually brought her into my division. Lisa-chan isn't part of my life right now, but my system of values is still based on what she would think of me. Juu, Nanao-chan, Lisa-chan - these are people I look to in order to judge my life by, and obviously none of them have ever approved of me wasting my time with any of those vapid-headed bimbos you refer to.

"Juu is my friend, and Lisa-chan doesn't even live in this dimension. They can ignore my antics, and I can ignore their disapproval. But Nanao-chan is my daughter, and I can't do it anymore. I just can't continue to embarrass her like this. I've hurt Nanao-chan too much, Kiku-san. She's been merciful enough to forgive me, and I really don't deserve it. The truth - the very rotten truth, Kiku-san - is that I couldn't bear to shame Nanao-chan anymore. So I decided that I would find someone that she wouldn't hate. Someone who is actually older than she is for a change, someone who has their own life with their own interests that I would need to learn to understand and respect. Someone who could, and would, teach me to grow up. And, as rotten and selfish and self-centered as my reasons are, that's the truth.

"I'm serious about you, Kiku-san, because you're good for me. Too good for me. There are probably many other women who would love to be in your shoes, Kiku-san - women who would love it if I could take them seriously. But I don't want any of them. I want _you._ You may not be the first woman picked out of a lineup for a dreamy, steamy fantasy; but you're the right woman for _real life._ Dreamy, steamy fantasies are great and all, but I'm a father now and that part of my life has to end, and I found someone who makes that possible - you. I'm really serious about this. You _are_ different - for all the right reasons. I need _you_ - precisely because you are everything that I am not."

Rantao Kiku sniffled for a moment, and put her head on Shunsui's shoulder. His arm wrapped around her, and she welcomed it. "...That's a good explanation, Shunsui-kun," she said affectionately, thinking about the conversation she had with Ise Shosho in the Ukitakes' kitchen. "I guess you deserve a chance to prove yourself," she teased lightheartedly, pulling a tissue out of her pocket to wipe her eyes and blow her nose.

Shunsui breathed a sigh of relief. "Yare yare," he smiled. "You're making me grow up already. Listen to me, rambling on about serious things, can you believe it? If only Juu could see me now, he wouldn't stop making fun of me for a week."

Rantao laughed and snuggled in to him, feeling like maybe things could work out - if she didn't end up getting sent to jail. "I... I have my own skeletons in the closet," she said. "I don't think you're going to be so committed after I tell you."

"Well, me and the Soutaicho are the only male captains not already tied down. So I'm warning you right now - if you feel a need to tell me about late night calls with Yama-jii, I really don't want to know," he chided.

Kiku laughed. "Dear heavens, no. I'm not into bald guys, sorry." That elicited a laugh, and Kiku began to finally feel comfortable, despite the anxiety of her pending confession. "This whole mess is my fault."

"...What mess?" he asked discretely.

"The Blades of Epsilon," she explained.

"How is it your fault?"

"About thirty years ago, when I was still 14th seat and stationed in the real world, I was visited by three captains of the Gotei 13. It was the first time we ever had a captain onsite," she began. "I didn't recognize any of them! I mean, when I got sent to Area 59, _Hikifune _Taicho had just appointed _Otoribashi Rojuro_ as vice captain of the 12th! I have to be one of a handful of people here who even remember Hikifune Taicho; that was how long it has been since I had been to Soul Society. Rose-san had already ascended to 3rd division captain and then _disappeared_ by the time Gin Ichimaru, Aizen Sousuke, and Kaname Tousen had come to our research lab. At the time, I had _no_ idea who they were."

Shunsui tensed. "What did they want?"

"They had Naga Toyuki with them, although I didn't know who she was back then," she explained. "It was very suspicious - why would a trio of captains come to the Division 12 Soul Resonance Lab in Area 59? Aizen asked me to find him a human that could see spirits. But not just anyone - someone who was familiar with autism. He basically said that he wanted to find someone to take care of Naga Toyuki. It was a highly suspect request - the idea of handing over a shinigami to human care? I don't even want to think about how many Soul Society edicts, laws, and ordinances that would violate. But Aizen was very charming. He was much more direct than you have ever been. "

"And so you slept with him?" Shunsui asked factually, although it was impossible to read his reaction.

Kiku hesitated. "...Yes," she confessed. "I was so wrapped up in his charms, I wasn't thinking. I should have said no. Instead, I gave him the information he needed to give over Naga-san to John Smith, the head of the NATA. Had I taken one minute to call my own captain to report the unusual request, none of this would have ever happened. This whole mess is my fault."

"Hold on, Kiku-san," Shunsui suggested, trying to calm her down. "When did this happen? Thirty years ago, right? Do you remember who was your captain at the time?"

A baffled, puzzled look spread all over Kiku's face. "You know what? I _can't_ remember. You would think I would be able to remember his name after sending him status reports for a hundred years. All I can remember is that my vice captain's name was Something-or-other Nemu."

"Ahhhhh," Shunsui laughed knowingly. "Captain Who. Nah, it's not just you - no one can remember his name. You can blame that on Rukia-chan."

Rantao's eyes flared wide open in shock. _"What?"_

"Rukia-chan erased his name about a decade ago," Shunsui explained. "Although I'm not supposed to know that."

"Gee willigers, isn't she scary enough?" Kiku wondered out loud.

Shunsui laughed. "Nah, she's actually quite charming once you get to know her. She and Nanao-chan are like sisters, you know."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me. It's no surprise, they're both pretty stern."

He chuckled. That was his Nanao-chan, alright. "Look, this isn't your fault. That captain of yours thirty years ago was a real crazy whacko. There was no way he was going to act on anything you told him."

"Never met him," Kiku commented. "Don't really know much about him. He never really communicated with me at all."

"Consider yourself lucky," Kyoraku smirked. "Seriously, though - this isn't your fault. Aizen deceived all of us in one way or another. He was a mastermind with no parallel."

"Still, it was my screwup. I should have called."

"It wouldn't have mattered," Shunsui said, dismissing her. "Captain Who wouldn't have cared unless you told him you had discovered some new sentient species that he could dissect. Even if you had told him, things might have played out just the same way."

Kiku sighed. "You're not even bothered by the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed a long night of really hot sex with Soul Society's most infamous traitor?"

Shunsui gave a mock wince. "You wouldn't believe who I've slept with, even if I told you," he muttered. Yeah, like my own daughter. I am _never_ going to be able to forgive myself for _that_ one. "It wouldn't be fair for me to judge you based on _that_. Especially not _me_, of all people."

Kiku laughed with him. "No, I suppose not."

Kyoraku gave her a tiny hug around her shoulders, drawing her into him to comfort her. "Kiku-san, I want this to work out. I really do like you - you make me take life seriously, and I enjoy spending time with you. And Nanao-chan seems to like you, which is just about the best compliment I could give anyone."

Rantao gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I think you're handsome, charismatic, and charming; and I like that you make me forget about my shortcomings," she said honestly. "But I'm trusting you only because you asked me to. Don't make me regret it."

He nodded, quite serious for a change. "I won't," he promised.

"Thank you," she said, kissing his hand before she removed it from her across her shoulders. "C'mon, Urahara Taicho needs me to bring this - this _thing _they call a 'sword' - back for him to run some tests."

"Please!" Kyoraku replied, nearly exasperated. "The sooner the better - _it won't shut up!_"

Kiku laughed, finally relaxing. It was a pleasant feeling.

-:-

Nanao unsealed the door and invited Hodo back inside. Hodo was mildly concerned that the white-haired woman in the gray robes was holding out a sword of some sort. The blade appeared to be made out of crystal or glass, which he found highly unusual. In any event, she was holding it away from him with the tip resting on the ground and assumed a nonthreatening pose, so he ignored it for the moment. Hodo knew that they had no reason to bother him anyway. "So is that it? You just wanted to talk to him?"

"No," Nanao said. "We needed to convince him to sign over the hostage to us."

Hodo looked surprised. "He's willing to do that?"

"On condition that he also be taken into our custody," Nanao clarified.

"Whatever," Hodo said. "The less blood on my hands, the better. But you'll have to excuse me if I say I'm a bit skeptical. This asshole doesn't strike me as someone who would so easily cooperate. We can't keep the peace out here if people think we were letting criminals get away easy, know what I mean?"

"Of course," Nanao nodded graciously. "Go ahead, ask him yourself. I've even brought some ink and parchment so that we can do everything legal and above-board here."

Hodo was surprised. Shinigami didn't tend to be so accommodating. Usually, they took what they wanted and that was that. "You mean, like a custody contract or something?"

"Absolutely," Nanao clarified. "So that you have evidence that this child will be taken care of. We know you have concerned members of your community. We understand that no one benefits from a shady transaction."

"I'll need a commitment that you won't let him anywhere around here within at least a ten-sector radius. If the people here find out that we just let him go-"

Nanao cut him off. "I can promise you that no one in your community will ever see him again. We'll even put it as one of the conditions in the custody contract, if you like."

"Who's going to be responsible for the kid?" Hodo asked.

"I am," Nanao answered confidently.

Hodo paused for a moment. He was worried about the kid's safety, but he had no options. The shinigami in front of him certainly seemed to be trustworthy, but looks could be deceiving. Still, if they could recover the hostage, that was better than he had been able to do. "Hey, Godanduju, you okay with this?"

The prisoner nodded in agreement. "I'll sign on the dotted line. As long as you can't get your grubby hands on my kid," he grunted.

Hodo thought his voice had an unusual intonation, and Godanduju seemed much more cooperative than expected - but Hodo wasn't going to give up an opportunity to wash his hands of the whole affair. One less headache was just the thing he needed. "Alright then, write it up." They summoned a small table from some of Hodo's assistants, and one of his advisors stayed while Nanao drafted the custody contract.

Hodo was a touch concerned. The white-haired woman hadn't said much since he had returned. He decided to inquire. "What's with her?"

"Personal bodyguard," Nanao answered matter-of-factly. It seemed to satisfy his curiousity and she continued with the legal details, adding points of clarification as per Hodo and his advisor when needed. After everyone was satisfied, they made a second copy of the contract. Nanao signed both, Hodo signed both, and then Nanao carefully handed the quill to Godanduju through the bars.

He jerked for it, limping awkwardly to the edge of the cell so that he could sign both papers. Hodo and his advisor gave him a look, and he sneered back at them. "You punks got a problem?"

Hodo rolled his eyes. The sooner he could be done with this arse the better. Nanao rolled up each of the documents, handing one to Hodo's advisor. "Alright then, gentlemen, I believe our business dealings are done here."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Shinigami-sama," Hodo returned. "I wish all of you shinigami were this easy to deal with."

"Thank you," she answered politely. "Now if you'll kindly excuse us, we have to debrief our new prisoner about how things will proceed from here. Our current mission dictates that this information is classified, so if you don't mind, we will require some privacy," Nanao explained. "If you'll just leave us the key, we'll take him with us out the back door over there and leave you the keys right here on this table."

If Hodo hadn't been so impressed with the bespectacled woman's handling of the situation until now, he would have been suspicious. But on the other hand, he had a perfectly good legal document insisting that Godanduju wasn't his problem anymore. So even if he thought she was up to something - which he didn't - he probably wouldn't care enough to say anything anyway. "Works for me," Hodo said, looking to his advisor for confirmation, and put the keys down on the table. "Here you go."

Nanao thanked him and again waited for him to leave. When he was done, Nanao sealed all the entrances with kido and added a kido silence barrier. She finally tapped Miyako on the shoulder, and Miyako took a deep breath and sheathed her zanpakutou.

"Great King of Hell, do you know how awkward it is to control a guy's body? They've got all this junk in the way! How in the world do they walk straight?"

Nanao laughed. Miyako could really be something else. "By the way - 'as long as you don't get your grubby hands on my kid'? That was clever."

"Thank you, Ise-san," Miyako replied graciously.

Godanduju, who was finally realizing what was going on, was outraged. "What the hell did you two bitches do to me!"

Nanao shot him a dark look, accompanied with a _Bakudo #63: Winding Binding Chains._ "We did exactly what needed to be done, you bastard."

"What the hell are you going to do to me?" he screamed, pointlessly trying to squirm against the restraints.

"Hell indeed," Nanao smirked as she graciously unlocked the gate to the cell. A wide smile had erupted onto her face, and Godanduju didn't like the look of it one bit. "I have a gift for you, Godanduju-san."

"W-w-what's that?" he stammered as the woman's malevolent eyes begin to burn in a red freakish haze.

In move so fast he couldn't even see it, Nanao pulled Saya from the sleeve in her arm and plunged it into Godanduju's chest, piercing his heart. His whole body began reeling and spasming in orgasmic, euphoric pleasure. His senses overloaded, and his sight blurred from the roaring, throbbing waves of erotic, sensual indulgence that were completely paralyzing him.

"Was that as good for you as it was for me?" Nanao whispered savagely. _Blood... the wonderful, heady tang of crimson, iron blood. I love that smell... it is so invigorating; so powerful. So instinctual; it is my origin and my savior. Blood and death and the essence of lost life - it feels good to go home; even for just a minute. It has been a while, hasn't it, Saya? _

Saya was too busy drinking to respond. She would sleep for a good long time after this meal; Nanao thought. I won't have to put up with her whining for a quite a while.

As Nanao waited for her tanto to exsanguinate its victim, she opened up another Gate to Hell. "Is he dead yet?" she asked Miyako.

"Give it another minute," Miyako suggested, trying to hide the fact that, as close as she was with her brigadier general, Nanao's dark side still scared her beyond belief. Considering that Miyako was one of the greatest Messengers of Hell in all of human history, that was saying something. "Eh, time's up - yep, he's dead."

"All yours," Nanao chided, pulling Saya out of the dead man's chest. Remnants of Godanduju's blood seeped into the golden blade; an effect that surely would have given Hodo the chills had he been there to see it.

"Good luck, Ise-san," Miyako smiled as she grabbed the corpse by the hair and started dragging him through the Gate. "Welcome to Hell!" she chirped happily, slipping into her usual routine. "No pushing, shoving, smiling, blinking, sex, drugs, rock and roll, fun, joy, praying, begging, singing, especially no singing, cussing, swearing, or..."

Nanao laughed. At least Miyako could amuse herself in even the most gruesome of arrangements. As soon as the gate closed, Nanao surveyed the surroundings, making sure there was no evidence of assassination. The one benefit of having a gluttonous vampiric zanpakutou was that it certainly kept cleanup to a minimum.

Settling the keys to the cell down on the table, Nanao released all the barriers and flashed her way out the back door of the prison. Next stop, sector 58.

* * *

_**Love those wonderful reviews, guys!** And please, if you haven't figured out the Q reference by now, I'm very disappointed. :)_

_Next chapter: Ichihime's date!_


	28. Pookie Pookie Chan

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. Lyrics to 'Wicked' printed under Fair Use. References to _fading into the background_'s fanfic used with permission.

_**Translator's note:** 'Ue-dono' (or in modern Japanese, 'Ue-sama') is a very polite way to refer to someone when you don't know their name._

* * *

_"Something has changed within me  
Something is not the same  
I'm through with playing by the rules  
Of someone else's game  
Too late for second-guessing  
Too late to go back to sleep  
It's time to trust my instincts  
Close my eyes: and leap!_

_It's time to try  
Defying gravity  
I think I'll try  
Defying gravity  
Kiss me goodbye  
I am defying gravity  
And you wont bring me down!"_

_~6th division vice captain, Head Lieutenant Kuchiki Hisako, __performing at the Shinigami Women's Assocation annual musical;  
__around two hundred years from now_

_[Marvelous! Although I still prefer Pigeon House.]_  
_~4th division lieutenant Shihoin Tokine,_  
_commenting (in sign language) on Hisako's performance _

* * *

Jenkins was greeted at the airport in Tahiti by Price, but both men were silent until they made it into the black SUV in the parking lot.

"Did you make it out with Yojimbo?" Price asked from behind the wheel.

"No. I had to surrender it in order to escape."

"Good thing you got out when you did," Price commented. "Satelite photos are showing a crater where NATA headquarters was. The US is saying it was a meteor strike."

"Bejeezus, the things these fellas say and these dumb people believe."

"Well, we didn't get many zans out," Price explained. "Ragnarok, Green Destiny, Lionheart, and Galatine."

"Ragnarok and Galatine? What else could we need?" Jenkins laughed.

Price shrugged. "Whatever, we have bigger problems on our hands."

"Q, for one. Jones mentioned the gargoyles, too."

"That's right."

"How bad is it?"

"UK, Ireland, Portugal, Spain, France, Netherlands, Switzerland, Belgium, Luxemborg, Germany, Denmark, Austria, and northern Italy. All of 'em clean."

"_Fuuuuck!_ That's the entire western half of Europe! How much do them fucking gargoyles eat?"

"You don't wanna know," Price answered as he turned off the highway onto a local road. "Roberts made it out of Milan. Said he ran into a green-haired centaur. Every time a hollow came near it, it fell down dead from the spiritual pressure alone. Says the gargoyle's jaw unhinged and devoured the thing whole. Hughes ran into some blonde chick whose mouth opened up like a shark _and swallowed a fucking pumpkinhead._ Those things are scary as shit."

"Did either of them try to engage it in combat?"

"Roberts tried. The centaur refused to fight him, saying it had no interest in eating humans before darting off."

"How many of them are there?"

"No idea, but Jones is monitoring the situation. He doesn't care one way or the other, but if these imbeciles in charge of those countries don't stop fighting each other, they're gonna start to realize that they should be coming after us instead. Now that the NATA is dead and gone, we've got no one to hide behind."

Price was right. That had always been the backup plan: pin the whole thing on Smith's NATA as one big protection racket. But with the NATA out of the picture, that clueless sucker Smith couldn't take the fall for them anymore. "I thought we took care of the gargoyles out in Japan?"

"Bad intelligence," Price explained. "We didn't know we had the wrong group until Smith's men got their hands on that shinigami lieutenant."

"The one Watson was impersonating?"

"No," he answered. "The other one. These gargoyles are something else we gotta worry about now."

"But Kathura will never fail us," smirked Jenkins.

Price gave an equally knowing smirk in agreement. "No, Kathura will never fail us."

-:-

"...and _that_ was the last time I _ever_ wore socks to work."

Ichihime burst into laughter. "No one can ever say you don't learn, Adame-san."

The pleasant breeze blew through the air in the Banzo family gardens, where the sakura trees' cherry blossoms stood in brilliant contrast with the clear blue sky. The smell of carnations hung in the air, and the lush grass beneath them tickled their bare feet. By now, both were carrying their sandals, and the casual stroll was relaxing and comfortable.

They continued through the gardens. At the plum trees, Adame plucked a particularly beautiful flower from among the blossoms, and with a flowing grace and ease of comfort, deposited the organic ornament into her tightly woven hair. "For a princess."

Ichihime blushed slightly, and a tiny smile turned upwards on the course of her mouth.

They walked together for a while, nearing the edge of the gardens, where they re-donned their sandals before a guard opened the gate.

"To dinner?" Adame inquired.

"It would be my pleasure."

Journeying from the Banzo estate, Ichihime felt like she was floating on a cloud of cotton. Her worries melted away, her cynicism could find no hold, and her agita was nowhere to be found. She barely noticed the throngs in the streets that parted and bowed in the presence of the Head of Banzo House and her escort. She did not think about who she was or what she was doing or where she was going. She was too wrapped up in the moment; and the emotion swirling within her had only last found purchase ten years ago, when she received her lieutenant's badge. For the company of Nikayui Adame to equate to that event was quite an accomplishment on his part.

Adame was more than capable of keeping the conversation flowing, and Icihime found herself able to talk freely and openly. It was amazing how she didn't have to consciously guard her tongue every second around him; somehow the air around them made it flow naturally with ease. What would have normally seemed like stuffyness to her simply felt like another tongue, no different than any other that shinigami know how to speak.

"...So how are things in the Gotei 13?" he asked. "I heard that a new lieutenant gave you quite a shock by assaulting Yamamoto Soutaicho's vice captain. Is that so?"

Ichihime chuckled. "Yes, that was a most heart-quaking moment, I can assure you. There is nothing like angering the Soutaicho by thrashing his lieutenant. Yet it was of no matter, as he was an impostor."

"Yes, so I heard! It sounds like there is no end to the excitement in your line of work."

"It has its moments, Adame-san," she smiled graciously. "The extensive paperwork is not what most would identify as the pinnacle of excitement. But overall it is a truly stimulating and rewarding position."

"I hear only good things about you, Ichihime-sama." She almost melted under his boyish smile. His maple hair was neatly groomed yet still maintained a casual, carefree look. Only his kimono, a dark red silk with matching obi, spoke of his upper noble roots. "They say you are a spectacular addition to the ranks of the Gotei 13. That one day you will be certain to become a captain."

"You flatter me so," Ichihime laughed, "enough to make me wonder who this supposed 'they' is that feeds you with such compliments tailored specifically for your evening out."

"Ah, but a man must never reveal his secrets," he teased, "until the time he knows his woman will cherish them."

Ichihime raised an eyebrow with a sly grin. If she were seeing herself from Adame's point of view, she would have been impressed by how remarkably sexy it was. "Is that a confession, Nikayui Adame-dono, that you believe Princess Banzo Ichihime to be 'your woman', as you intimate?"

Now it was Adame's turn to blush, and Ichihime found him hopelessly cute. "My apologies, Banzo-no-kimi, for a man of my diminished stature can only verbalize his prayers in hopes that Fate actualize them."

Ichihime's sly smile widened. "An admirable recovery, Adame-san," she teased. "But do not fret; I merely tease," and she took his hand in her own. "I could imagine many worse things than to be the woman of Nikayui Adame for an evening."

"'For an evening'?" he inquired, an equally flirtatious smile upon his face.

"For an evening," she confirmed with a clever grin. "For you have yet to earn a lifetime."

"If you allow me to try, I would be most appreciative."

Ichihime chuckled and she gazed into his eyes with a deep, tender, confident stare. His dark eyes met her own rich blue-grey ones that shone brightly beneath her thin, platinum eyebrows. "Consider my permission granted," she replied, her sultry tones impressing even herself.

The two continued, hand in hand, to the restaraunt that Ichihime had chosen. It was an upscale, private place that she had learned about from Kuchiki Taicho's wife, Shiba Taicho; who were frequent guests. It was an exclusive place that knew it was such, and therefore did not dabble in excessive pretense as it only served one set of guests per evening. It was an odd paradox; due to its reputation it could afford to present itself as a modest establishment.

Ichihime allowed herself to be graciously escorted in by her date, and they were seated immediately and provided with a bottle of sixty-year-old Higurashi sake, the bottle signed personally by Higurashi Mamoru himself. Ichihime had arranged with the restaraunt ahead of time to prepay thirty percent of the bill without Adame's knowledge. He could not (and should not, in Ichihime's opinion) be forced to spend on such extravagance in order to impress her, as she would never be impressed with nobility or its trappings anyway.

The establishment knew that they were there to be served without question, and a broad array of appetizers were placed in front of them, and they freely ate and drank with lively banter.

"So did you bring your zanpakutou?"

"Actually, I did."

"May I see it?"

For most people, this would have been an unusual question to ask. Considering that Adame's profession was the manufacture of asauchis to become zanpakutou, it was less of an intrusive matter and more of an opportunity to demonstrate that he could indeed speak on matters of his livelihood. "But of course," she replied, withdrawing Shiji and leaving it on the table.

Adame was very careful not to touch it as he inspected it up close. Even though he did not have one of his own (he wasn't a shinigami), he knew that it was considered extremely rude to handle someone else's zanpakutou. "Brass blade, bronze crossguard, and steel shell hilt around the brass tang. Leather hilt wrappings with brown chord; seems to be sheepskin and wool. Perhaps the chord is a wool/cotton blend, I cannot tell without a magnifying glass."

"And what insights can you extract from your observations, O Master Blacksmith?" she teased.

"More like Chief Tailor," he chuckled. "Let's see," he began, his brow tilted into a mock academic gesture. "A brass blade - strong, bold. Full of purpose. Focus on function over form, although still retaining an intent to show the world you are proud of what you are, the way you are."

"Do tell," Ichihime encouraged. "What other palm readings can you derive?"

"Are you mocking me, milady?" he asked in amused sarcasm.

"Of course not, I would never dream of it," she laughed, depositing a piece of steamed edamame in her mouth.

"Ah, very well then, onwards," he continued smoothly, his charisma capturing every corner of her attention. "A bronze guard - firm, steadfast. You will defend your beliefs and you will not let the barbs of others tilt your hand. Steel hilt shell - steel, an undifferentiated metal. A steel shell to hold the tang of your blade, to show that you prefer the world to see you as one of them rather than overfocus on your identity."

"My, aren't we insightful," Ichihime snickered, impressed.

Adame took it in stride as he continued. "Thank you, Banzo-no-kimi. Sheepskin wrappings with chord, because you are an earthy person. Your head is never in the clouds. You prefer concrete over the abstract. Am I right?"

"Indeed you are," she smiled. "But you have forgotten the most crucial detail of all."

"Did I? And which is that?"

"Of all blades, why a tanto? Is it not customary for nobles to wield longer weapons, such as a katana or even a nodachi?"

"Oh, that one is easy," he said, sitting up and no longer inspecting the weapon closely. "So easy I did not even think to mention it."

"Is that so?" she asked, her eyes unconsciously half-closing in a subtle display of sexuality. "Pray tell, what is that?"

He leaned closer and whispered across the table. "It speaks of a desire to be close, to engage with another. To see for yourself, to know; to be known. You are not content to remain distant from those you meet. Your true desire, Banzo Ichihime-sama, is to feel another's soul, to love or be loved, to touch one's heart and show them your own."

Ichihime was speechless. His deep brown eyes held her gaze, and she found herself lost there; connected, bonded. "...Adame-san-"

"Ichihime-sama," he whispered. "I see a future with you. One of laughter and tears, one of peace and panic, one of happiness and sadness. For no future is without its peaks and nadirs - but the one thing that is constant is that I can see myself with you; through it all."

Ichihime cheeks flushed. "Adame-san, I... I don't know what to say."

He smiled. "No need. Try some of this rice tempura, though, it is splendid! I know you like it," he said, passing her the dish.

She couldn't help but laugh. He remembered from their initial meeting! That's impressive. "You are wonderful," she said lovingly. "I have never met a nobleman who can appreciate the value of being at such ease."

He grinned wide, but it receded into a simple smile. "Ichihime-sama, if I may be so bold, I must say that you look stunning tonight."

Ichihime smiled, for at that moment, she felt as stunning as he described. "Thank you," she said sincerely, savoring the moment. It eventually passed, and she feared a need to set expectations. "Although I am sorry to say that you have yet to see me after I return from a mission. I can promise you that you would find me less than appealing."

"How so? Do hollows these days have a propensity to painting mustaches on the shinigami that chase them these days?" he teased. "Or do they suddenly make you go bald?"

"You have a most amusing sense of humor," she acknowledged with a chuckle. "But in all seriousness, Adame-san, I am not an attractive woman."

"Nonsense," he said. "I would sooner believe that you have a penchance for eating raw jellyfish."

"Jellyfish?" she laughed. "Your imagination is as sharp as your wit. No, I have no desire to eat jellyfish, raw or any other kind. But I am serious! I am cursed with a plague of hairy moles. It is most definitely unappealing, that is for certain."

He swallowed a small piece of fish and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "Allow me to tell you a secret, Ichihime-sama. I have no bellybutton."

"What?" she asked, bursting into giggles. Most individuals of his stature would use the word 'navel'.

"No, it is entirely true," he assured her. "I kid you not."

"How is that possible?"

"There was once an accident in the smithery, and molten metal splattered. The resulting burn was so bad that I needed to receive a skin graph from my buttocks; hence I no longer have a bellybutton."

"From your buttocks?" she laughed. "Adame-san, I am sorry, but I cannot help but find this funny."

"As you should," he said. "If we cannot laugh at our troubles, they will only make us cry. And laughing is much more fun."

Ichihime reached out for his hand, gripping it tightly. "That is a sage adage. You are wise to have learned it."

"You are wise to have experienced it," he said. "Your laughter seems to cure all of your ills."

"It is the one who has brought me such laughter that cures my ills," she replied, a flirtatious smile gracing her countenance. She had not smiled so much in one evening as far as she could remember, and it felt _fantastic._

"You honor me, Banzo-no-kimi," he replied in a mock namaste, and Ichihime found him adorable. Adame's charm was remarkable and Ichihime enjoyed some quiet moments just enjoying the ambiance with him as the restaraunt's staff brought them several different trays of entrees.

Contemplative, Ichihime's mood turned more serious after they took a few moments to partake from the various dishes. "Adame-san, it is time that I ask you to endure a more serious note of conversation. As you know, it was my decision to make overtures to the Nikayui Family, and it would be unfair to both of us to have this continue without serious discussion on a number of issues."

Adame gave her his full attention, waiting to listen to whatever she might have to say. "Of course."

"First and foremost, it would be wrong of me not to mention that I have a touch of a rebellious streak."

His boyish grin was so flirtatious that Ichihime thought she would burst into butterflies from it. "I would have _never_ conceived of such a thing, considering that you have been dying your royal hair for at least twenty years," he teased amiably.

She giggled in response. "I suppose it is rather obvious, if one dwells on it." Dear Kami, am I giggling? she thought. I didn't know I could giggle. It's nice, actually!

"Yes, and I must admit that I have heard that your prowess on the battlefield, as legendary as it may be, is not nearly as accomplished as your poetic license with alliterations of profound profanity," he barbed amusingly.

Ichihime looked away from him, guilty as charged. "It is an embarassment to my station, I am aware."

"Of no concern to me," he replied simply.

"I must protest your prompt dismissal," she cautioned. "I must warn you that I am not fond of the aristocratic pomp and circumstance like my father and grandfather so 'nobly' carried. I can make the Head of Shiba House look like a natural-born Kuchiki by comparison."

"It should come as no surprise to you that I, too, would not consider myself the conventional statesman of the Nikayui dynasty," he grinned. "And to be honest, your reputation precedes you. I knew what to expect before I ever agreed to meet with you. Contrary to what you may believe, I find the prospect of such laxity a bonus rather than a detriment."

"Is that so?" Ichihime replied, surprised.

"Of course!" he said earnestly. "Come now, you must understand. I am but an silly fellow with a naive bleeding heart, believing in such poppycock as romance and love and all this other humbug," he chided. "And on a more serious note, I am not a shinigami nor do I ever intend to attempt my hand at the profession. I am but a humble craftsman at heart - but not even the manly blacksmith that my brothers have chosen for themselves. If you can forgive my preference for stitching over swords and swashbuckling, then it is all but fair for me to acknowledge that we _both_ diverge from the expectations of those our families have typically come to demand."

"And how did it come to be that you are not yet married when you exude such natural, humorous charm?" she replied, a glimmer of evocative tease shimmering in her eyes.

"Alas, milady, I have yet to find a noblewoman whose humor is as accepting as your own," he flashed with a handsome grin. "All of the other ladies I have so dreadfully been forced to endure were so stiff and uptight that they could find me none other than 'immature', 'childish', and 'no better than a windbag attached to a mop of foppy hair'."

His delivery was so comically perfect that Ichihime burst out laughing. "Am I not another lady your father so dreadfully forced you to endure, then?"

"Milady, you forget that I said 'other ladies'," he quipped.

"Clever, you are," she replied with a satisfied grin.

"I merely attempt," he returned. "So what other confessions of great import do you have?"

"Are you mocking me, kind sir?" she retorted with a smirk.

"Of course not, I would never dream of it," he repeated, following the cue.

"There is one other thing, Adame-san. One perhaps less easy to dismiss, and in truth, I would not even dare to discuss it had I not felt it fair to forewarn you."

"Please, by all means, proceed."

Ichihime took a deep breath. "I am a complex person with a complicated history, Adame-san. My mother died in childbirth, and a part of my father died with her. He was nothing but a disgrace during my lifetime, and I am sure you know about my broken engagement; a subject of great personal pain and tragedy. All of this has made me, in many ways, a woman with many bitter memories."

"It was a subject I did not wish to bring up until you did so first," he confirmed, putting aside his flirtatious tone for more serious discussion. "But yes, I know of it."

"To compound upon it, you were correct to hesitate out of concern for my previous relationship with 9th division captain, Abarai Renji. It has taken me some time to discover what it is that I feel and why."

"If I may be so brazen to interrupt, Banzo-no-kimi, forgive my intrusion but that is indeed an inquiry of my most serious concerns," he interjected lightheartedly; or at least as much as could be appropriate given the conversation.

"Most certainly," she smiled politely. "It has taken awhile, but after my companions have knocked me silly with much rhetoric of the most convincing type, I have come to realize that he is not - nor will be - my intended."

"Very well," Adame quipped happily. "Now that we have that matter settled, please, carry on."

She could not help but find his sense of humor endearing. "The truth is, Niakyui Adame, is that I have spent too many years-" Ichihime began to choke on her words, and they burned in her throat. Sadness and disappointment came to her face.

"What? What is it?"

"...I'm sorry, Adame-san. It is that I- ...I do not know what 'love' is. I never have, and fear I never will."

Nikayui Adame's eyes blinked and twitched in a manner of speechless bewilderment. It was unlike him to be speechless, and the air hung quiet with nothing but the crackle of the restaraunt's fireplace to be heard. "That... is a hard statement to interpret, Ichihime-sama."

Ichihime frowned. Cupping his hand between her own, she searched for her words. "What I mean to say, Adame-san, is that I one day I want to be able to look you in the eyes and say 'I love you'. Because I hope I will. The more time I spend with you, the more I honestly dream of that day. But we may be married for ten years before you ever hear it, because I could never lie to you about that. And that is just who I am. My heart is not easily opened, for it has never been taught to flower. If you truly wish for us to continue, it is something you must be prepared to accept."

He smiled. Not his boyish, happy-go-lucky humorous one that melted Ichihime's tension. It was instead a sincere, amorous smile; and it penetrated her deeply. "If I may not be mistaken, there was an intimation that you might actually agree to marry me, should I ask - or perhaps I was mistaken?"

Ichihime's clever, sexy grin made his spine tingle. "I merely spoke of the hypothetical, Adame-san. For I cannot speak on your behalf, but for the moment I am quite enjoying the prospect of a rather lengthy courtship. A proposal would certainly make the whole matter rather public, would it not? It would hamper our opportunities to enjoy each other's company for the short-term - don't you agree?"

Nikayui Adame laughed. "Clever you are, Milady Banzo. Your wit is as sharp as your zanpakutou." He never imagined he would find a woman like this in a thousand years. She was everything he had ever wanted, and then everything else he needed but didn't even know he wanted yet. "Might I say though, Ichihime-sama, that you may not find I suffer from the same malady."

Ichihime was confused for a moment. "What is this malady that you speak of?"

His gaze nearly made Ichihime faint - and she was not one for fainting. "I have no inhibitions saying I love you, for I am fairly certain I do already."

"Oh, fuck it already," she muttered loud enough for him to hear, and nearly dove across the table to kiss him, with no concern for stuffy, aristocratic propriety at all.

-:-

_"Sshh! _Careful!"

"Zari-chan, our mothers would disapprove!"

"What does 'disapprove' mean?"

"It means that they will punish us!"

Shihoin Zarina shook her head. "Sako-chan, you're so funny. You always use grownup words."

"My name is _Hisako_! Just because you do not use your full name does not mean that I do not."

"You talk like your dad," Zarina teased, thinking of Byakuya-sama and his super-stiff mannerisms.

Kuchiki Hisako pouted akimbo. "If Tousama finds out I am getting into trouble he will not let me come over and play."

"Well then don't tell him!" Zarina replied, tucking her blonde streaks of hair behind her ear, only to have the purple ones on the other side fall forward to block her vision. It was a perennial problem - she could never get both sides to stay put.

Hisako stared over to the woman whose room they had invaded. "Are you not scared of her?"

"Why would I be scared of her?"

"Because she is dead!" Hisako whispered.

"Nah, she's not dead," Zarina whispered back. "Papa just says she's really sad."

"Why is she sad?"

"I don't know, that's why I thought we should come and ask her, Sako-chan!"

"My name is _Hisako_! _Hi_-_sa_-_ko_! Like 'Hisana' and 'Miyako' smushed together!" At least, that was how her mother always explained it.

"Yeah, yeah," Zarina replied, waving her little fan in front of her face (a verbal and facial expression she had undoubtedly picked up from her own father). "C'mon. We better hurry before Kainaino-san finds us."

Slowly, the two seven-year-olds (who, despite their unusual intelligence, were still really just toddlers in diapers) tiptoed towards the petite woman who was doing nothing but staring off into space.

"Hey, lady," Zari whispered. "Why are you looking at the wall?"

"Can she talk?" Hisako asked.

Zarina ignored her best friend, and to Hisako's utter panic, climbed on the woman's back. "Look, Sako-chan! She's a horsie!"

"My name is _HISAKO_!"

"_Sssh!_" Zari cautioned, buckling up and down on the woman's shoulders like she was a carnival ride. "Kainaino-san will find us!"

"Nee-dono, you should tell Zari-chan to get off!" Hisako insisted.

The woman just blinked blankly as she shifted her gaze to the little black-haired girl in front of her, completely ignoring the other child who was galloping all over her.

"Nee-dono...? Are you okay? Zari-chan's father says that you are sad."

The woman's eyes softened for a moment. The child's deep indigo eyes were too adorable for her to maintain her silence. "Yes," she answered.

"Whoa! Cool, she talks!" Zari said, getting down and standing near Hisako. "What's your name, lady?"

The woman hesitated. "...Toyuki."

Zari bowed enthusiastically as only a toddler could do. "Yuki-chan, why are you sad?"

She didn't say anything.

"Are you sad because you are here in timeout?" Hisako asked.

"No," she answered, a hint of amusement in her voice that was too subtle for the children to pick up.

"You shouldn't be sad," Zari said. "Come play with us!"

"Yes, Toyuki-dono," Hisako agreed. "You should play with us. Tousama says playing outside is good for you."

Toyuki was frozen for a moment. "...You... look... like... Kuchiki Rukia."

Hisako clapped her hands with such a cheery expression that Toyuki could have sworn she had just seen a sunrise burst from the child's mouth. "Yay! You know my Rukia-obasama! She is very pretty," Hisako squealed.

"Sako-chan wants to be just like her Auntie Rukia," Zari informed her.

"Stop calling me that, Shihoin Zarina Wargalenta Bayushima Soregento Pookie-Pookie-chan!"

Zari just laughed. "You're so funny, Sako-chan."

_"HISAKO!"_

"_Ssh!_" Zarina fretted. "Kainaino-san is gonna find us and then Kaasama is gonna put me in timeout again!"

Hisako laughed. "You are always in timeout, Zari-chan." Turning to Toyuki, she asked, "So if you are not in timeout, why do you never come out of your room?"

"...I do not like the outside."

"Why not?" Zari asked.

"...It's overwhelming."

"What does 'overwhelming' mean?" Zari asked.

"...It means that... that I feel uncomfortable."

"Why?" the girls asked simultaneously.

"...Because the noise bothers me."

"Why?" the girls asked, again in unison.

"...Because I do not like noise."

"Are we noisy?" asked Zarina.

"...Yes," Toyuki said, because she couldn't understand how a toddler would interpret it.

Hisako was offended. "You do not like us because we are noisy?"

"No," Toyuki corrected. "I like you."

"For real?" Zari inquired, her face scrunched up in this grand inquisitive look.

"Yes, I like you," Toyuki said. "I do not like the noise outside."

"What about music?" Hisako asked. "Does that bother you, or do you like music?"

"...I do not know."

"That's silly!" Zari's brow furrowed as she looked at the odd, stiff woman with intense curiousity. "How do you not know if you like music?"

"...I have not heard music in a long time."

"How long?" asked Hisako.

"...Since before your parents were born," Toyuki hazarded a guess.

"Whoooaaa," both girls stared in unison.

"Then you should listen to music!" Zari suggested. "Sako-chan can sing, did you know?"

"Pookie-pookie-chan," Hisako taunted back, annoyed.

"...Would you sing for me?" Toyuki asked.

Hisako smiled, forgetting Zari's annoying nicknames for the moment. "Of course, Toyuki-dono!"

_"My pigeon house, _  
_it opens wide, _  
_and I set all my pigeons free - _  
_they fly, _  
_so high, _  
_until they reach the sky,_  
_and the light on the tallest tree._

_"And when they return _  
_from their merry, merry flight - _  
_they close their eyes,_  
_and say 'Good night!'_  
_Karoo, karoo, karoo, karoo,_  
_Karoo, karoo - good night, sleep tight!"_

The lush, melodic flow of Hisako's voice filled the room with an aura of divine grace; and Toyuki was clearly moved. "...Can you sing that again?"

At that moment, the door to the room opened, and Shihoin Yoruichi stood, arms folded, tapping her foot. Her old haori flapped violently in the wind over her mourner's yukata, and her golden yellow eyes indicated that Shihoin Zarina was in a _lot_ of trouble.

"Uh-oh," Zari mumbled. Hisako gulped.

"Girls, what are you doing in here? !"

"...Hisako-chan was singing to me," Toyuki answered, much to Yoruichi's surprise. "It was very beautiful."

"You're - you're talking," stumbled Yoruichi.

Toyuki didn't seem to respond any further.

"Um, uh... you like singing?" Yoruichi stammered.

"She says she doesn't even know if she likes music, Mama!" Zari exclaimed.

Yoruichi could see that she was already practicing to be a lawyer. A smirk dawned upon her face as she realized that the little menace could turn out to be worse than both her and her husband _combined_. She was going to have to talk to Kisuke. "Toyuki Tokine-san, if you like, we can get you some music to listen to."

"Yes," Toyuki said flatly, but Yoruichi thought she could see a spark of hope come to the woman's face. Immense relief flooded through Yoruichi's shoulders. From what she had heard, the petite woman had been completely unresponsive to nearly all stimuli for days.

"...Shihoin-no-kimi," Toyuki said. "...I miss Kyon."

Yoruichi's smile spread wide. "Girls, go to the dining hall for lunch and find Kainaino-san. Toyuki-san will be having company shortly and we don't want to disturb them."

Zari turned to Hisako and whispered in her ear. "C'mon, Hisako-chan, let's hurry before Kaasama changes her mind and we get in trouble."

"Yes, Zarina-chan."

"Zari," she corrected under her breath with a giggle. Hisako knew how to take a good tease, and the girls waved goodbye to their new friend before leaving under Yoruichi's amused eye.

Yoruichi waited until the girls were out of earshot. In the past five minutes, Shihoin Toyuki Tokine had said more words than she had since Kuchiki Rukia brought her here. "You look better, Toyuki Tokine-san."

"Toki," she corrected. "...That was what I was called inside our House."

"Toki-san," Yoruchi affirmed. "I'm working to see if I can get you back into the Gotei 13. The other Heads of House support my proposal; it is up to the Council for Nobility to decide. The Naga family is not likely to agree to it. I just thought it fair to warn you."

The petite woman was quiet, much to Yoruichi's disappointment.

"Alright," Yoruichi sighed. "I'll get Kyon. But please, talk to him, okay? He's really worried about you."

Toyuki nodded, and Yoruichi left the room - but she left the door wide open, with the bright sunshine peering through into her guest's room. And for the moment, Naga Toyuki didn't mind.

-:-

Nanao walked up the steps of the church and went inside. The Circular Order of Monks that ran the church were sitting down to dinner, but they looked up from their meal as Nanao went in.

"Ue-dono," one of the monks greeted her. "How can I help you?"

Nanao bowed politely. She wasn't Circular herself, but was familiar with their customs. Her vice captain, Fuwu, was Circular; so she had read up on it in order not to be disrespectful. Well, at least not over his religion, anyway. "I know it's late, Sensei, and that services have already been held for today, but I come on very important and urgent business." She unrolled the parchment and handed it to him, giving him a moment to read through it. "I have a custody contract from the Yakuza a few blocks from here. Supposedly, an orphaned baby was left on your doorstep this past Festere. I've come to claim it."

The monks all brightened, and a wave of reserved cheer seemed to come forth from the otherwise quiet men. The one who greeted her took her by the hand. "Please, Ue-dono, we are so happy. We were worried. We don't have any formula, but we've been feeding it milk in the meanwhile. We know it's not adequate, but we don't know what else to do."

"Here," said another monk, handing her a bundle. The baby's face was visible, and Nanao immediately noticed the child's gorgeous green eyes - a rarity. Most newborns have blue eyes that slowly darken; but the emerald irises were so bright that they practically stole Nanao's breath.

Then she raised an eyebrow. " _'It'_ ?"

The monk chuckled, but the worry in his voice was clear. "We're... not sure," he said, indicating that it would be better for Nanao to check herself. "That's why we were worried."

She lifted up the baby's blanket, and sure enough, it was completely devoid of any sex characteristics. "I see," she said, still a bit confused. Second inspection revealed the child to have a urethra, but beyond that, there was nothing there.

Nanao thought for a moment before reassuring the monks. "The Gotei 13 has a wide array of resources and experts at their disposal, and I'm sure that they can figure out how to provide the appropriate medical attention."

"Of course, Ue-dono," the monk answered, rolling up the parchment and giving it to her. "God bless you and godspeed. Is this your first child?" he asked politely.

Nanao hesitated; a deep and profound guilt settling on her face. "No," she said. Giving him another bow and gesture of gratitude, she flashed out of the church to see her sensei, Unohana Retsu.

* * *

_**Don't forget to leave reviews, please! **You know I love them so very very much.  
_

_**Next chapter:** Rantao & Shunsui go on another, uh, 'mission.' And for those of you who keep saying you're annoyed that this isn't a Shunsui x Nanao fic - get over it already. :) In this fic, Nanao is Shunsui's daughter, so give it a rest. That being said, if you like Shunsui x Nanao, I direct you to read _fading into the background_'s pieces. _


	29. Beggars Can't Be Choosers

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. All other references used under Fair Use.

_**Author's note:** Just before anyone yells at me - yes, I know that the word 'retard' is considered **extremely** offensive, and that people who use it are considered coarse and insensitive. I use it here precisely for that reason; no other term would work in context._

___**Another author's note:** _I can't believe none of you had any comments on Nanao's answer last chapter to "Is this your first?"... I was expecting more of an "OMGWTF!". Anyway, here we go...

* * *

_[The spoken word may be powerful - but the soul of mankind is not bound in it. I can speak words if I so choose - I can shift the vocal chords in my throat with air that must pass from my lungs and through my pharynx and out my mouth. But why should I? Why should I release such power into the world when the world already possesses so much of it already? Words are precious - and if I can retain them, I will.]  
__~4th division lieutenant, Shihoin Tokine, on why she almost exclusively communicates in sign language;  
__at her first vice captains' meeting approximately 126 years from now_

_"Great, just what we need. Yet another pretentious noble retard."  
~5th division vice captain, Hinamori Momo, at Shihoin Tokine's first vice captains' meeting_

* * *

Retsu was off for the night, but when she received a hell butterfly from Nanao, she rushed to her office in the central 4th division infimary. Nanao never would have summoned her unless it was urgent.

When she arrived, she was completely surprised to find that they weren't alone. Nanao had a baby with her. As far as Retsu knew, Nanao wasn't expecting; nor did Retsu think of Nanao as the type to want children. "Ise-san, whose baby is this?"

Nanao hesitated. "...It's mine."

_"Yours?"_

"It's complicated, Unohana-sensei."

"Does Hisagi-kun know about this?"

"Of course he does," Nanao answered, trying to be respectful and hiding her offense. She was disappointed that she didn't hide it very well. Unohana-sensei was generally not the type to be judgemental.

"How did you-"

"-I can't answer that question, Unohana-sensei," Nanao interrupted, a finality in her voice. "But it needs immediate medical attention; it's likely been malnourished until now and there are some other issues."

Unohana held off with further questions and began a physical exam, realizing immediately what was wrong as soon as she unwrapped the child's blanket. Lighting a small orb of kido in the air to provide the baby with warmth during the physical, she began reiatsu scans while checking the baby's pulse and responses.

"Well?" Nanao asked.

"Have you heard this baby cry, Nanao-san?"

"No, I haven't. I haven't had it with me for very long, though."

Unohana nodded. "One moment." She excused herself from her office, and after a minute or so, came back in with some equipment that Nanao didn't recognize.

Nanao waited impatiently for Unohana to run various tests, including drawing blood and a series of other diagnostic examinations. Nanao was already fretting. I always knew there was a risk, she thought. The parents could have a horrible genetic disease. Although most families in the Rukongai were assembled by circumstance, it was still possible that Godanduju had been not only the baby's father but also the progenitor; and he was clearly sociopathic. Who knows what kind of behavioral inclinations he could have passed on if this unfortunate child had Godanduju's genes.

She was instantly upset for second-guessing herself. Beggars can't be choosers, she reminded herself. I've been trying to find a baby for _months._ Every avenue had come up short until now. None of the whorehouses had unintended pregnancies, and Shuuhei's mother hadn't found any suitable client for one of her ladies to 'accidentally' forget birth control. It had been a long shot, but Nanao had combed the records of new souls coming into Hell, just in case someone was sent to Hell for committing infanticide - which would basically indicate a baby would appear somewhere in Soul Society without anyone to initially claim it. Nanao supposed she was happy that such horrors were indeed as rare as she had expected, although the human race isn't so righteous that the idea seemed impossible. Finally, through a stroke of luck on one of Shuuhei's Yakuza contacts, they got wind of an abandoned infant. After months of searching, Nanao and Shuuhei finally found one. They couldn't be picky: a baby was a baby. It was all they could ask for.

Unohana sighed. "Well, this is a highly unusual patient."

"What's the diagnosis?" Nanao asked nervously.

"First, the gender. I won't be able to tell anything at all without surgery, and possibly not even until a full DNA review is conducted. Even still, DNA reviews are less than helpful for establishing cases of questionable gender."

"Why not?" Nanao asked, puzzled. Either the child had a Y chromosome, or it didn't.

"Even if the child was genetically male, hormone production in individuals with undifferentiated sexual characteristics can override genetic tendencies. For example, the child may be genetically male, yet the body may produce enough estrogen to force the development of female sex characteristics, such as breasts. Furthermore, without clear male genitalia, it would be extraordinarily difficult for the child to feel naturally masculine; especially since it likely wouldn't have any effective means of testosterone production. This means that even only slightly elevated estrogen levels could dominate physical development. The chance of developing gender ambiguity disorder is very, very likely. And all of this assumes that the child doesn't suffer from some sort of sex-differentiated chimerism, where some cells are XX and others are XY. Only a full DNA scan could identify such a exceptionally rare anomaly, but it is not an insignificant possibility given the child's unusual spectral ratios."

"I don't understand - are you saying that you'll need to do investigative surgery?" Nanao questioned.

"No, certainly not at this time. This child also suffers from malnourishment, like you suspected; and has mild jaundice and a fairly weak reiatsu pattern. The child is not in any life-threatening situation at the moment, but treatment is required before any surgery could even be performed, investigative or otherwise. Furthermore, I don't know that investigative surgery is practical."

"...You think we should just declare her female."

Unohana shrugged. "I am not in a rush to decide one way or another. I don't want to be the cause of juvenile gender dysphoria because I misdiagnosed the child's sex - it is equally likely that this infant could grow up to be male or female, depending entirely on hormonal development or even psychological impacts due to their personal experiences. In short, Nanao-san, I think it unwise to consider the subject too deeply. Not all of the mysteries of Fate's Creations are revealed to mankind; I prefer to accept my place as a doctor and not a fortune-teller," Unohana explained. "More important is that the child is capable of proper bodily function. As far as I can tell, the urinary tract is intact and stable, and I see nothing wrong with the bladder. We'll need to keep the child for observation, though, to guarantee that it can properly relieve itself. "

Nanao sighed. "I need absolute quiet on this. No one can know about this child except you, me, and Shuuhei. Not even Isane-san."

Unohana gave Nanao a look. "That's a very unusual request. Ise-san - _what did you do?"_

Nanao squirmed under her mentor's suspicious gaze. "...Unohana-sensei, please, trust me on this."

Unohana Retsu knew that it was not beyond Nanao's conscience to do something extraordinarily shady. Nanao was a good person, but it didn't come easy for her. Nanao saw the world in black and white, and she rarely felt remorse or guilt - even for taking actions that would normally shake someone to the core. Still, Retsu supposed that was a good reason to trust her. Despite Nanao's strong natural inclination to be cold-hearted and vindictive, she rose above it; going against her grain to be someone that Retsu was proud to call her student. Even so, this was peculiar. And when it came to Ise Nanao, peculiar might as well have been a synonym for trouble.

"Unohana-sensei," Nanao whispered. "Please."

Retsu hesitated, but the tears that started to well in her student's eyes melted her. Nanao never cried. _Never._ Not over _anything._ "Sensei," Nanao whispered again, with a solemn regret in her voice that was just as unlike her as her tears. "As much as there is someone else who... there is someone else, someone else who might have owned the title once before, but... but now, I..."

"Ise-san," Unohana said softly, trying to understand what her student was getting at.

Nanao couldn't form the words she wanted to say, and Unohana could tell that she returned to a circuitous tangent. "...I've been learning kido under you for decades, Unohana-sensei; decades."

"I'm sorry, Ise-san, but you seem to be rambling," Retsu said politely, trying to help Nanao focus. "Ise-san, what is it? What is it that's going on? You can tell me."

Nanao paused, thinking a good long time with pursed lips and a taut brow of anxious worry. "I can't, Unohana-sensei. I can't explain. I need you to trust me and just go with it. You- you need to understand something, Unohana-sensei - it may be sad for me to admit this, but you are the only person I could ever call a mother. You have to trust me not to let you down, or I swear I'll never be able to look you in the eye again as long as I live. Please, Sensei? Please, just trust me - please?"

The confession broke Unohana. Nanao would never, _ever_ say something like that unless she was truly, truly in need of help. Such displays of vulnerability from the self-proclaimed Shinigami from Hell? They were beyond Unohana's imagination. As much as she knew that Nanao had dark and even sadistic inclinations, Retsu also knew her most cherished student well enough to know that she might need to put her faith in Nanao's humanity. But even so, the situation invited so many questions that Retsu was way too uncomfortable to cede to Nanao's request. "Nanao-san," she began to protest gently before Nanao cut her off.

"Please, Sensei. I am begging you - begging you, I swear to Kami, I am _begging_ you - _please_ help me. _I **need** this baby._ I need it _so_ badly. I need it so badly _that my soul burns with a yearning I have never felt in my entire life._ I need this baby and I need it like _nothing_ I have ever needed before. You can't even imagine what kind of problems I would have if anyone found out that I have this baby right now. Please, Sensei - do this for me. No - no, _not_ for me. For this baby. Do it for this baby. This baby has no chance without someone who wants to love it, and the love it needs right now is secrecy. Please, Unohana Taicho, please agree to this. I know you think I'm being ridiculous, but _please_ - please, please, _please_ - I am _begging you with **every last ounce** of my soul_, please? Please, just trust me?"

Retsu was taken aback. She knew her star pupil well enough to know that Nanao was _completely_ out of character. Not even the calm-and-collected Unohana Retsu could prevent herself from her next remark. "Nanao-san, what on earth are you saying?"

Nanao was beginning to lose it. Nanao was not the type to panic, but she was losing control of the situation, and Nanao couldn't deal with that. There was too much at stake. Way too much at stake. "I... Sensei, please - don't ask me questions. Right now, I just need to know that this infant is going to be safe. That's all I can think about right now, and in order to be safe, it needs to be kept a secret. Please, just trust me. Please, Sensei? Please, _please -_ please just do this?"

"...But Hisagi-kun knows why you're asking this of me?" Retsu asked pointedly.

"_Yes._ He knows everything. _Everything._"

"He has no reservations?" Retsu asked, her stare even sharper than before.

"_None._ I swear, Sensei. Call him and ask him if you need to, I swear. I swear, call him if you want. Shuuhei understands everything; if he were here, I swear he would be asking you the same thing. I swear. I swear to Kami that presides over Heaven and Hell and everything in between; I'm not lying."

Unohana breathed deeply. Nanao was off the deep end today. Whatever it was, this must have been important. Unohana didn't understand it, but Ise Nanao was not the emotional type. Whatever it was that was going on, Unohana at least felt that Nanao was, perhaps for the first time, thinking like a loving mother, and not like a hardened, callous soldier. "Very well," she agreed, reluctantly giving in. "I will take the child to the isolation rooms and make sure that only you, Hisagi-kun, and I have clearance."

"No - just you. I don't want to attract suspicion. I am one big mountain of attention that this infant really doesn't need. Please, just you."

Retsu sighed, completely baffled by Nanao's obsession with secrecy. Nanao was always secretive - Unohana didn't even know her zanpakutou's name - but pushed her concerns aside. She had already agreed to Nanao's initial request, protesting any further was pointless. It was time to move on to more important things. "Okay then. But I should note that besides the lack of an identifiable gender, there is something else."

"What?" Nanao asked, worried. She was so emotionally drained that she didn't know if she could stomach another bout of bad news.

"This baby has been quiet this entire time because it has no vocal chords. This child is a natural mute. It is unlikely that it will ever be able to speak."

Nanao was saddened, but resigned herself to fate. She was too spent to be angry at the universe; too exhausted to be bitter about the cruelty that was sometimes seen in the world. Some people were just born with hardship, and there was nothing she could do about it. Nanao had accepted worse outcomes; and compared to androgyny, this was the least of its problems. "Anything else?" she responded, checking to make sure that there wasn't anything else to rain on her parade.

"There is a possibility that the child will have malnourishment-induced asthma, based on my initial diagnosis; but I think the chance is remote - less than three percent. With proper care, it will likely not have a problem."

Nanao nodded, sighing in worry. If anyone could provide proper care, though, it was Unohana Retsu. She bowed very deeply. "Thank you, Sensei. Either Shuuhei or I will check up with you soon."

Retsu pulled her student into a hug. It wasn't a gesture that they had shared before, but considering Nanao's earlier confession, it was the motherly thing to do. "Don't worry, Nanao-san. Whatever it is, the baby will be fine."

The gesture of affection was too much for her, and Nanao actually started sobbing. Not just tears or crying - she had been doing a mortifying amount of that already - but all-out, full-blown wailing and heaving. She was never this emotional, and frankly, she found it incredibly embarrassing. Still, things were finally working out. Not perfectly - not perfectly by any stretch of the imagination. But not everything in life was perfect. With the child's emerald eyes sparkling under the hospital's lights, Nanao didn't care. Screw perfection - _she had a baby._ That was close enough.

From behind her curtain of tears that stained her sensei's haori, the great, mighty, fearsome Shinigami from Hell seemed more like the Relieved Daughter, and her whispers resonated in the quiet room. "Thank you, Unohana Sensei. Thank you so very, very much."

-:-

I entered the room. My hopes were up. Dame Yoruichi had informed me that Toyuki was speaking, but I found her in the same position she had always been when I entered every previous time - her eyes, a ghostly gray gaze of gauzy gossamer, were fixated on the wall to my left.

Slowly, sliding the door shut, I knelt down close to her, giving her the requisite amount of space. She neither turned her face nor body to me, nor did she seem to respond to me at all. I didn't want to startle or upset her, so I thought it best to stick to our routine.

"Are you hungry?"

She didn't move, but she at least answered in her usual flat voice. "No."

It was a relief to hear it again. I hadn't heard it in three days. "Thirsty?"

"No," she answered again, her emotionless voice soft and quiet.

"Are you lonely?"

"No," she answered, and before I could say anything, she turned her head to face me. "Not when you are here with me."

My heart melted and a smile began to emerge on my face. Tears welled in my eyes as I felt the benevolent mercy of God finally gifting me with her precious, rare words.

Heartened, I continued the routine; but this time with more relief and happiness than worry. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No," she said, an upwards tick of her lips forming freely. It was the most beautiful smile I had ever seen, and I would walk a thousand miles to see it every day of my life if I had to.

"Would you like a hug?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"No," she answered, but her voice was not the flat, robotic utterance I had been hearing for over three years now. It was a voice filled with tender amusement, as though we had an inside joke. Which, in some ways, it was.

I inched closer to her, already anticipating the next answer. "Would you like a kiss?"

Naga Toyuki leaned forward. "Yes, Kyon. Because I love you," she said flatly, and brought her lips to mine. The world began to explode in sunshine as our kiss held; and in time our mouths opened ever so slightly to allow the breath of our souls to mix amongst one another. The gentle scrape of teeth was a signal to pull away, but as I did so, she very carefully caressed my lips with an affectionate lick; and the lunge that followed to preserve our conjoinment knocked me to the ground.

I wrapped my hands around her petite waist; tucking them into the wide white belt of her shinigami uniform. I held her tightly against my chest, savoring the feel of my one true love pressed against my body. I had never felt her so close before; and before I knew it, her fingers were intertwined in my hair, pulling my face into her own, our mouths linked as lovers do; sharing the same breath for an eternity that I only wish could be even longer.

It was too soon before she pulled away and buried her arms and head in my chest, and then her precious, sealed soul did not seem to move. No emotion remained. It completely ceased to exhibit any signs of humanity. She was still - no heaving, gasping, stealing of air. No smile, no glimmer in her eyes, no tears nor stroking of her fingers. She did not move or emote in any way, shape, or form - as immobile and as unresponsive as a marble monument. But I understood why:

Because that was how Naga Toyuki made peace with the world. She did it in perfect stillness - by shutting it out, cutting off all stimuli, and relying on only the most minute, miniscule sensations to enter her consciousness. That was how she tolerated her excessive oversensitivity to light, to sound, to touch, to everything; by blocking it out with a lead curtain of stillness; shutting off the involuntary floodgate of datainto her brain and actively stemming the tide of information overload until it was only a small trickle of digestible input that made her seem comatose to those who don't understand how she is. That reality - that deceiving, paralyzed stillness that made others treat her like something less than human - it was something so few understood; for they never did take the time to understand what she experiences every waking moment of every day.

But this time, I was in her world; in her box; in her domain. I was not outside. I was inside her stillness; it was I who she seized to form her quiet; me - I was her peace itself. I was her solace and her salvation. Her stillness was not a rejection of me or my presence; it was the very opposite - that I was her comfort and her tranquility. And I know that the only reason I can understand that is because I love her as much as she loves me.

-:-

Byakuya tucked the covers over Hisako's shoulders. She was sleepy and yawning, and she reminded him of his first love; the tiny woman Hisana. It was uncanny how they were nearly identical, Hisako's angular face and big indigo eyes a spitting image of his late wife. Her bangs had not yet grown out, but the rest of her hair was as long as Imoto-san's shortish black bob. It was admittedly quite endearing to have such a chibi version of his sister around him all the time. In some ways, it brought him much comfort and consolation; as though somehow he had been gifted with an opportunity to nourish the souls he had so badly failed so many years ago. Thankfully, he had long made amends with his sister Rukia, whom he was now very close with; but his daughter Hisako gave him the joy of caring for Hisana once again.

He had been a very lucky man. Exceedingly so, in fact. Byakuya had received the greatest gift any man could ever ask for - the ability to start over. Ever since his brother-in-law, Kurosaki Ichigo, had charged into Soul Society to teach Byakuya a lesson - one Byakuya would never forget as long as he lived - his whole life had become a set of new beginnings. New promises to fulfill, repairs to be made. A new relationship with Rukia. But he was even more blessed with a new wife who understood him and forgave him for his many errs in judgement. And he had made many. Too many. But she forgave him anyway. And he loved her for it.

At first, his second marriage had been accompanied with unexpected problems. Most notably, many accused him of marrying Shiba Kuukaku in order to consolidate power. It was no secret that he harbored intense disdain for the Council of Nobility. With the Head of Banzo House now his second-in-command in the Gotei 13, rumors feared that with a majority of the Heads of House to support him, he would completely overthrow the aristocracy. Indeed, it had been tempting; but Byakuya knew that the responsibility of nobility was to maintain order and to abhor anarchy.

Kuukaku, of course, did not help this perception. While in some ways grateful that she had been re-accepted into the circles of the elite, she was also deeply wary of them, and had been known to retaliate in council meetings. Byakuya knew better than to step between his wife and her targets. Unlike his own steady temperament - one that took many years of careful, intense training to insure that he be maintain composure at all times - Kuukaku's temper was the same as it had ever been.

Of course, Byakuya did not marry Kuukaku because of any silly desire to gain power. He had plenty of it as it was, and he could accomplish most of what he needed with what he already had. Besides, even with all of the power of the Four Heads of House, they still could not influence the Council for Nobility when it came to truly important matters. It had taken Byakuya a lot of effort, including many bribes and threats, just to force the council to instate Imoto-san as Deputy Head of House; providing her with the full compliment of benefits and authority. Even after they had married, the combined weight of Byakuya and Kuukaku were barely only able enough to have the Kurosaki name inscribed in the ledger of Royal Bloodlines, despite being a full-souled Shiba. And his many requests on behalf of both Rukia and Ichigo had been denied. So to accuse him of marrying for the sake of garnering power for his own means was as baseless as it was stupid.

No, Byakuya married Kuukaku because he deeply loved her, as impossible as it was for even himself to believe. There were few others who understood him, who believed in him, who admired him. There were plenty who respected him, and even more who feared him - but there were very few who knew him. And she knew him best; even better than Rukia did. Despite their completely opposite personalities, and the fact that Kuukaku was, at heart, a boorish broad who was more comfortable in a bar than in a manor; he did not care. She was too good to him.

As good to him as Hisana had been; as loving and as beloved. No man could have understood how lucky he was. To find a new beginning - a new love - was a gift that not all men received. Especially since both of his loves came from unconventional channels.

And so he had been blessed with a new life - a new wife, and a child. A new generation - one day, she would carry the scarf of the Kuchiki House. It would be the first time a woman would ever become Head of Kuchiki House, but Byakuya would not have it any other way. _The past contains much to remember, but the future must be better than the present that the past gave us._ That was the codex that Byakuya lived by now; and it would be the legacy he would pass on to his children and grandchildren. It started with a woman from the dregs of Inazuri, now a blossoming place of commerce in the Rukongai as it carried the blessing of the Kuchiki name. The world was already better than it was when he ascended to his title, and the onus was upon him to insure that it continued.

"Hisako-chan," he whispered, stroking the child's brow.

"I am deeply sorry, Tousama," she said, restraining a yawn. "I should not have disturbed Toyuki-dono. I was not behaving."

"Ssh, child," he instructed, and she complied. "You did a wonderful thing today."

Hisako was clearly confused, even though the tiny yawn interrupted her question. "But I broke the rules...?"

"Yes, you did," Byakuya answered. "And your mother taught you that you will never do that again, correct?"

"Yes, Tousama," she nodded. Kaasama had made her sit in timeout for five whole minutes! It was not fun at all.

"But, although you broke the rules, you made Toyuki-dono happy, and that is very important."

Hisako's face scrunched up in an adorable gesture of curiousity. "How?"

Byakuya knelt down and kissed her forehead. "Do you remember your Hyakuto Kobarishi poems?"

The little girl looked askance with a guilty frown. "No," she admitted. "I am sorry, Tousama."

He smiled. It was hard being a princess sometimes. Much more than most thought. "Then I will remind you: 'Upon the countenance of babes dawns the hope of morrow's promise.'"

"What does that mean, _aauuuuuugh,_ Tousama?" she asked, her sentence interrupted by a deep and drowsy yawn.

"It means, dear Hisako-chan," he whispered as he kissed her brow again, "that children can make us happy, even when we only know sadness."

Hisako gave him one last smile as the lids of her eyes began to flutter shut, the draught of sleep taking hold and pulling her into an exhausted slumber. Byakuya stayed there for a moment, uttering a silent prayer to Fate for having given him such a wonderful child.

"My, my, Byakuya-san, you surprise me sometimes."

Byakuya turned to find Kuukaku in the doorway, a sleek smile accentuated by a hand on hip. It wasn't quite her signature serpentine display, but it was comely nonetheless. These days. she wore her shinigami uniform at all times. Her hakama were standard, but the shihakusho was sleeveless, and was still open enough to display the cleft of her massive, jiggling (and admittedly appealing) bosom; although not quite as much as the 10th division vice captain normally put on display. Her haori was a simple vest, oddly enough akin to the type that Soifon wore; despite how much the two of them had always been at each other's throats in all other matters. Her short arm was wrapped in a typical white bandage, with a matching band up her full arm that taped her knuckles through forearm. Kuukaku had long forgone the scrappy headwrap, and now wore a simple red headband embroidered with the Shiba crest. Her zanpakutou, the feisty Firefly, hung across her back.

"Kuukaku-san," he acknowledged her.

"Come, Byakuya-san," she whispered, a vulpine upwards twist of her lips perched just so in order to poke fun at him. "Seeing you say so much sentimental crap is exhausting. Let the poor girl rest."

Byakuya sighed. Some things would never change.

He kissed his daughter on the brow once more - something he sometimes felt he could not do enough - and left the room. Kuukaku gave him an affectionate thump on his bottom as he exited, and she shut the door behind him. "Not in front of Hisako-chan, please," he commented dryly.

"Eh, she's asleep. Besides, my parents never hid their affection from their children."

"And hence the reason you possess such a dignified grace," he retorted with his eyes closed.

She playfully shoved him, loving his little act. It was just their thing. "I love you, Byakuya-san, you know that?"

"Yes," he said flatly. "You remind me often."

"Admit it, you like me," she teased.

"I do not," he replied stiffly, knowing that she already knew to interpolate the unsaid 'because I love you instead'.

"Such a charmer," she teased with the roll of his eyes. "Come, Hisana-dono beckons us. I'm sure she wants to hear about Hisako's adventures today."

Byakuya held out his arm in a chivalrous gesture, and Kuukaku wrapped her arm around it and allowed him to escort her. They had been married for almost ten years, and they still sat in front of Hisana's picture before going to bed. It may seem odd to many, but it was actually Kuukaku's favorite part of the day. Most marriages never spend enough time focusing on why they fell in love in the first place. But with the hands and hearts intertwined, they still found each other in the shadow of the past as they built the dawn of the future.

-:-

_The next day_

Nanao was very excited and very nervous. She had waited for the opportunity to bring the little bundle through her door, and now she stood outside with mixed feelings of anticipation and fear that someone would see her sneaking around in the wee early hours of the morning. "Honey, I'm home," she whispered through the door.

Hisagi had been waiting anxiously, and yanked the door to his quarters open for her. They lived together in the 9th division barracks' vice captain's room; which was a bit isolated from the rest of the 9th division's sleeping quarters. The Kido Corps housing was terrible - even though Nanao should have had much better housing benefits, Hisagi definitely had the nicer place; so they stayed there most of the time. (Although, personally, Hisagi knew that even if the Kido Corps housing would improve, the idea of having Fuwu Yashitori across the hall was not very appealing.) "You have it with you?" Shuuhei asked quietly as he closed the shouji screen behind her.

"Yes!" she whispered excitedly.

"Prognosis?"

"No asthma, thank Kami," she answered.

Shuuhei breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good."

Nanao smiled and handed him the little bundle. "And guess what, tough guy - it's your turn to change its diaper."

His face went blank. He totally forgot about that part.

-:-

_Meanwhile_

"Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm... Paramore, Counting Crows...?"

"Check."

"Five for Fighting...?"

"Check."

"Uh, Blues Traveler?"

"I think so..." he answered, rustling through one of the baskets of shrink-wrapped plastic squares. "For the record - pun _not_ intended, actually - I'm surprised that you don't find this is slightly embarassing."

"Well..." Kiku reasoned, "I guess it would be a bit demeaning for a lieutenant if it wasn't for the fact that I sort of feel responsible for the whole mess. Oh, Train! Gotta get that..."

"You can't still be hung up on that, ne?"

"Oh, quit psychoanalyzing me and put these in the basket," she muttered, handing Shunsui a stack of Dave Matthews Band CDs. "Urahara Taicho said I should buy out the whole store if I need to. He's paying, so I might as well. Whatever I can do to help Naga-san, I'm really fine with it. Even if it means getting into these awful gigais."

"But you look so good in those jeans," he whined. "It's a shame you don't get out more."

"Yeah, well the jeans are great," Kiku admitted. It's just this darn underwire that's killing me. Haven't humans ever heard of a shelf bra? Gee willigers, it's annoying as heck. "Hmm... Do you think Naga-san would like music with a vocal focus, or do you think she really just wants instrumental tunes?"

"How would I know?" he shrugged. "I'm not the exper-"

"Never mind, just take these, anyway," she shrugged, flipping Rianna, Beyonce, Christina Aguilera, Carrie Underwood, and Andrea Bocelli into their already overflowing basket. She saw a set of Dautry close by and tossed that in, too.

"Andrea Bocelli? That looks familiar... Ah, Romanza! Now that's good stuff."

Rantao laughed. "I'm not surprised you've heard of him. You probably had that album running in your house every time you invited a woman over to sleep with you."

"Mean," he whined.

"You can thank your daughter," Kiku laughed. "She told me it's a good tactic for dealing with you."

"Great, just what I needed," he muttered. "Ne, how do you know if any of this stuff is any good?"

"I've heard a lot of American radio over the past century," she explains. "It was always playing in the lab. Hmm... Emo, but whatever, maybe she'll like it," she thought out loud, handing Kyoraku a My Chemical Romance album.

"I've never heard of almost any of this music," Shunsui frowned. "Although I did manage to recognize Elvis, you have to give me credit."

"What about these?" Kiku asked, ignoring his blatant attempt to grab her attention and handing him boxed sets of Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Handel, Pachelbel, and Tchaikovsky. "Surely you're familiar with those at least."

"Of course," he said, not completely lying. He knew of them, for sure, and he had certainly heard their music. But there was no way he could point out the composer of classical music while listening to it. Ask him to determine the brand of sake he was drinking, now _that _he could do. "But who are these bands? 'The Fray'? 'Led Zeppelin'? 'Metallica'? What kind of name is that?" Flipping through the albums in one basket, he looked for other names. "Vanessa Carlton, Jimmy Hendrix, Garth Brooks, Yo-yo Ma, David Garrett, Louis Armstrong, Eric Clapton, Bruce Springstein - at least those are names of people. Even 'The Mighty Mighty Bosstones' makes some sense, given that they play music. But 'Arcade Fire'? What's an arcade, anyway?"

"It doesn't matter what they call themselves, as long as they have something that shows you their soul," Rantao dismissed with an almost academic air. "Take for instance, this one."

Kyoraku read the CD cover before putting it in the basket. "Eminem?"

"Whether you like his music or not - or even if you could call rap 'music' at all - the man has talent, no matter how disgusting some of the things he says are."

"What's 'rap'?" he asked while accepting a handful of CDs from Notorious B.I.G., Dr. Dre, RunDMC, Naughty by Nature and Bone Thugz & Harmony.

Kiku sighed with a smile. "Nevermind. Here, take these," she said, passing him a large box set of The Red Hot Chili Peppers. "And this, too. Suzanne Vega has simple music but really smart lyrics. I think Naga-san might appreciate it it."

"If you say so," Kyoraku shrugged. The idea that Naga Toyuki appreciated _anything_ was still hard for him to completely accept.

"Uh, excuse me," one of the store clerks asked as Rantao passed Shunsui a collection of Green Day albums. "You, uh, have a lot of stuff."

"Oh, don't worry, we're buying all of it," Kiku replied politely.

"Uh, that's going to be, like, at least three thousand dollars," the store clerk noted. "Uh, _at least._"

"Do you take American Express Platinum?" Kiku asked smoothly.

That seemed to get the attention of the clerk pretty easily. "Why, yes we do."

"Excellent," Kiku supplied. "We should be done in a few minutes. If you want to start ringing up some of this stuff, that would be great."

"I'd be glad to," the clerk said eagerly. Shunsui handed him one of the two big baskets he had been shlepping around, and the clerk went to the register.

Shunsui looked back to Rantao. "I have to admit I'm impressed that you know how to navigate all of this," he said. He rarely went to the real world, and when he did, he never went to the United States. He always went to Amsterdam, Ireland, or Bangkok.

"No, you're not. You're just saying that to flatter me," she teased, passing him the soundtracks to K-On!, Riverdance, Rent, Moulan Rouge, Wicked, and Les Miserables. She tossed into the basket a bunch of random CDs from Aqua Timez, Asian Kung-Fu Generation, Evanescense, Yui, Hitomi Takahashi, Tommy Heavenly6, Bowfire, and Nico Touches the Walls. She thought for a minute and then added Nine Inch Nails, Audioslave, and Guster to the heap. "Ooh! Santana! That's a must!" she said to herself, tossing another few CDs into the bin.

"You're really into this, aren't you?"

"Well, maybe you should listen to some of this stuff," she said, passing him another box set, "and then maybe you could actually impress me rather than just trying to fake it," she teased back. "You know what, though, you might want to keep that suit you're wearing. You do look pretty sharp."

"Thanks," he said, and then looked at the box she handed him. "'The U2 Anthology'? What kind of name is 'U2'?"

"Hey, don't mock them, they're essential," Kiku retorted. "You would probably like them, too. Well, most of it, anyway. This, too," she added, adding a Beatles anthology to their pickings.

Kyoraku stared at a Prince collection she handed him. "Where is he prince of?" he asked, his tone only half joking.

"Oh, hush," she replied. "Just carry them - ooh, take these." Kiku handed Shunsui a handful of John Coltrane discs.

"I had no idea you were so into music."

Kiku merely shrugged. "I've always had a good ear," she replied nonchalantly. "Besides, there's so much free music on the internet that it's hard not to dabble in it."

"Ah, the internet," Shunsui nodded. "That's the thing that Nanao-chan is always using."

Kiku rolled her eyes as she passed him _Hans Zimmer: The 20th Century Mozart_ and _The Complete Compositions of E.S. Posthumus._ "Shunsui-kun, you're hopeless, you know that?"

He ignored the comment. "So of all the music in this store, what do you think I would like the most?" Shunsui inquired, hoping to provoke a conversation that was a little less one-sided.

She tossed a set of BareNaked Ladies albums right on the top of the basket.

"Very funny," he grimaced.

-:-

Isane was ready to jump out of her skin.

"Hold tight, Neesan!" Kiyone chastised. "If you fidget, this is going to take even longer!"

She had been standing with her arms out wide for forty-five minutes now as various tailors fitted her dress under Kiyone's watchful eyes. It had been a real challenge for the crew to figure out the best way to finish the dress. Isane had picked out the style weeks ago - a very simple red kimono with an old-fashioned women's obi. Nothing fancy. Simple elegance.

The problem was that she was so ridiculously tall that the tailors didn't even have a base kimono to bring in or take out. They needed to make her one from scratch - and getting the exact, precise measurements for a 7'3", 38D-28-38 woman was just not an easy task. The obi itself was over sixteen inches wide; there was simply no way it would be able to be tied by human hands. They needed to design all sorts of zippers and clips and hold it in place, and then they were still trying to figure out how to get a nice knot in the back,

"Isane-sama," the tailor suggested, "we could try a pre-tied knot sewn onto the back and hide a zipper underneath."

"Hey, that's cheesy!" Kiyone interjected. "This isn't a costume! It's her wedding kimono!"

"Oi, Kiyone," Isane moaned. "Give it a rest. I don't care. No one's going to know."

"But Neesan-"

"Hey, look, I didn't complain about your wedding kimono. Give me a break, alright?"

Kiyone relented. Her own wedding kimono had a gargantuan display of cleavage that made Isane blush everytime she saw it. True to her word, Isane had never said a thing about it. Probably because she knew Jushiro would like it, which was what mattered. "Fine, whatever. Your kimono is boring anyway."

"I like boring," Isane said. "It's a simple wedding, with a simple bride and a simple groom. Boring is just fine."

"You're too modest," Kiyone sighed, folding her arms. "It's not every day a lieutenant gets married, you know. Partying is warranted."

Isane rolled her eyes. No matter how much Kiyone had grown up over the years, she was still enamored with glitz and glamour. "We can't all marry into nobility, Kiyone," she retorted in jest.

"Psh," Kiyone snorted. "You know our nobility is worth nearly nothing."

"Being a landowner in Sereitei is a big deal," Isane said seriously, shifting as the tailors scurried about. "You have a manor and everything. The Ugendo estate is much nicer than the barracks, and you know it."

"Oh, quit complaining. You have a vice captain's room; it's more than enough for the two of you."

"That's pretty funny coming from someone who's bedroom is larger than my whole apartment," Isane laughed.

"Hey, when did this become a Kiyone-bashing session?" she frowned.

Their banter was interrupted when 4th division 3rd Seat, Iemura Yasochika, flashed into Isane's office. "Sorry to interrupt, Fukutaicho, but-"

Kiyone whacked him upside the head. "You jerk! What if she was changing? You're supposed to knock first, you chauvinist pig!"

"Uh, sorry," he muttered quickly, "but it's an emergency - Ayasegawa Taicho just flatlined."

* * *

_You know I love all of your reviews, so **please leave a thoughtful comment! **__(For those of you who do not know what juvenile gender dysphoria is, Google 'Gender Identity Disorder in Children'.)  
__Next chapter: Rukia and the ritual of a shinigami's last rites._


	30. Opposition Research

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

**_Author's note:_**_ Kasumi-Ouji is nowhere in canon. Therefore, I can do what I want with it. :)_

_**Translator's note:** 'Chikusho' is a non-explicit swear word. The literal translation is 'beast', but it basically means 'damnit'. The word 'kuso' (often pronounced 'ksa' and deliberately romanized that way) means 'shit', both literally and as a common expletive._

* * *

_"Otousan, are you sure we can't turn off the music? Please? Maybe just for ten minutes? You know what, never mind, forget it. I'm going to Sako-chan's house."  
~ Shihoin Zarina, approximately fifteen years from now_

_"...I don't know, Taicho. I've been trying for a long time, and I still don't know what my soul wants from me."_  
_~ the serious-minded Shiba Kanchi, talking to Kuchiki Rukia about learning bankai;_ _approximately two centuries from now_

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

Really? That will work?

_Of course._

Alright, Momo thought. _"Snap, Tobiume!"_ she commanded, and her sword released into shikai. She wandered over to the gate, sword still in hand, and the guard looked at her. As soon as he saw her, she tried Kyouka Suigetsu's suggestion -

- and sure enough, the guard scratched his head as though his mind had been playing tricks on him.

Wow - you mean I don't have to invoke you by name? Momo thought.

_Tobiume is your zanpakutou,_ Kyouka Suigetsu explained. _I am merely your guest. Do not worry, you never have to admit I am here._

_A very well-endowed guest, too,_ Tobiume purred. Momo had a semi-sickening feeling that Tobiume's eyes were staring in places where they shouldn't belong.

Momo put that thought out of her mind as she walked right past the guard, whom she had hypnotized. The moment he saw Tobiume's jitte-branched katana, she had been able to steal his senses; prevent him from even realizing she was there.

It was unbelievable. She could deceive the entire 5th division if she wanted to; easily. All it would take would be a training session between her and Shiba Taicho with the whole division ordered to watch and learn. Then they would all be under her spell if she wanted.

Even her captain. What an incredible thought.

But not for now. Now, she had another agenda. Passing into the gate and down the steps into the 2nd division's maximum-security detention center, Momo navigated through the twisting underground hallways until she made it to NATA Agent Watson's cell. Guard after guard ignored her, coming under Kyouka Suigetsu's complete hypnosis at even first glance. By the time Momo had made it to Watson's cell, he had seen her, too; and now there wasn't a single soul in the entire cell block who could accurately deduce that Momo was there.

They were being told that there was nothing to be seen, heard, smelled, or touched. It was a stealth unlike Momo had ever experienced, and this was coming from someone who had snuck up on arrancar undetected.

It was thrilling.

Momo put her zanpakutou away and made Watson think that she was some gorgeous blonde bimbo. For better or for worse, she projected an image of Rangiku, which made her feel guilty but at the same time she decided it didn't matter anymore.

It certainly got Watson's attention, but the first moment he locked eyes with her, her kido-laden gaze knocked him out. It took a while only because he he had been staring at Momo's pathetically flat chest for only god knows how long, capable of seeing only Rangiku's tempting breasts. Not exactly the most well-thought out plan I've ever conceived of, Momo muttered mentally.

_That's okay, Master of the Sun. You are still new at this. You are doing fine - experience is everything._

Tobiume internally frowned at that comment, but Momo ignored it as she used a _Bakudo #4: Crawling Rope_ to snake inside the lock and slowly jiggle the tumblers. In less than half a minute, the cell's cage door clicked open, and Momo walked in under the cover of everyone else's forced ignorance.

Momo rolled Watson over so that he was on his back. After that, she searched the cell. It was nearly empty, with a chamber pot on one side and a cheap mattress and thin blanket on the other. Nonetheless, Hinamori peered into every nook and cranny in an attempt to see if she could find any personal effects. She found nothing, although she wasn't sure what she felt about that. She then searched his person; but he had nothing but his prison robe. She was hoping that she might find some smokes, but no luck.

She locked herself inside the cell using the same Crawling Rope trick and leaned against the wall until Watson stirred awake. This time, Hinamori presented herself as-is. She was all set to do business. All Hinamori needed now was another pack of cigarettes.

Watson came back to consciousness, groggy and disoriented. "Ugh..."

"Good morning," Hinamori said dryly.

"Ugh," he repeated. "Good morning."

"Having fun in here, Watson?" Momo asked casually, her obvious indifference clear as she inspected her nails for the sake of appearing uncaring.

"Not so much," Watson groaned. "But expected, I suppose."

"Pardon me if I don't care," Hinamori retorted.

Watson gave a weak, knowing smile. "I suppose not, Momo."

Something about being called in the familiar made Tobiume snap inside, and Momo snapped with her. Impulsively, Momo slapped Watson across the face with an shockingly fierce brutality. The echo of the five-fingered strike slammed around the cell block with a skull-ringing _WHACK._ The mark left a massive red welt on his face, and Watson's nose even began to bleed. "Don't talk to me like I'm your friend!" she ordered. Goddamnit, I want a cigarette, Momo thought. She was all out and now she was coming down with the cravings.

"_OUCH!_ God-fucking-damnit, that hurt like a _bitch_!" Watson moaned, cricking his dislocated jaw into place and massaging his joints with an excruciating twist on his face. "Jeezus, lady, I'm sorry, alright? It's an American thing to use first names; sorry, okay? Jeezus," he muttered.

"My _first_ name is _Hinamori_," she spat back in edgy irritation, feeling the nicotine twitch.

"_Personal_ name, _personal_ name, sorry," he grumbled. What a bitchslap that was, fucking hell did that hurt. Now he was agitated and not in the mood for chit-chat. "What do you want with me?"

"I want to find Q," she demanded. "Tell me where he is."

"Q? Damn fucker is in Doverfield," Watson grumbled. "And I'm being damn nice by telling you that, considering that you just knocked my chin into another fucking dimension. Fuck me with a spoon, that hurt like hell!"

Momo hesitated, but decided she had to cough up the reality. "We turned Doverfield into a vaporized crater. How do I find Q?"

"How the fuck should I know?" he said angrily. "For all I know, if Doverfield is gone, Q may have gone with it."

"It was you who faked an order to send me to meet Morgan, wasn't it?"

Watson was cautious. "Yeah, so?"

"How did you know where he was? You must have had contact with him."

"Deal first, information later," he replied.

"Easy traitor," Momo shot at him. _Chikusho,_ did she want a smoke right now.

"Hey, hey," he shook his finger. "I'm just an undercover agent for hire. Don't be pissing on me like I've got some attachment to Smith's operation. I'm no different than most of his men; CIA departees looking for a better buck, former Marines, FBI dropouts. Most of us are doing this for the money."

Momo gave him a careful stare. "What about Morgan? Is he like that, too?"

"Look lady, I don't know Morgan any better than you know who Naji Futama is."

"Who?" Momo wondered, forgetting that she was supposed to be controlling the conversation.

"Exactly my point," Watson shrugged. "He's the unseated 1st division officer in charge of one of the main senkai gate shifts. Most people don't know a damn thing about him. But I happen to know that he's easy to distract with a wink from the 11th division lieutenant. Point is, I don't know a goddamn thing about Morgan any more than you know about makeout sessions in the senkai gate control room, so don't ask me."

Momo didn't even want to go there. Yachiru-chan having anything to do with boys just sounded gross. "I can't offer you anything," she said, annoyed. For some reason, she added, "Other than perhaps a quick death, which is likely preferrable to extreme torture." Momo wasn't really sure where _that_ little threat came from, but she was going on impulse.

Watson just laughed in her face. "Oh, c'mon, Hinamori. _You?_ What are you, _kidding_ me?"

Momo glared at him harshly, but he was unfazed as he closed his eyes with a condescending smile. It frustrated the hell out of her, and _goddamnit, she wanted a smoke._

"Give me a break. You're a good vice captain, but you're a young pure-hearted girl with pristine cheer. I mean, I've read your personnel file - you're about as fucked up in the head as they come - but you definitely don't have the stomach for torture or killing. That I know."

She drew Tobiume and held it at his throat. "You want to open your eyes and say that to my face?" she threatened.

He complied, smiling wide as his eyes locked against her stare. "Go ahead. I _dare_ you. Kill me. See if I care. I _dare_ you, little girl."

Momo's rage pent up and she backhanded him with ferocious force, smashing the hilt of her zanpakutou in his ear.

Watson saw stars as he slowly lifted himself off of the floor, but was laughing out loud the entire time. "See? I told you that you can't do it," he taunted, managing to take a breath in between laughs. "You can't kill me. You don't have the blackened heart for that kind of thing."

_Oh yes I do,_ Tobiume said inside Momo's head. _Oh yes I do, you better believe it, you scum._

Tobiume! Momo rebuked. How can you say such a thing?

_Get real, Momo-san! Look how ridiculous this is! We're going to let this insignificant scrape of human mildew keep us from getting to some death-deserving pissbucket that ruined Rangiku's life? I don't have the patience for this! Just roast him to cinders until he tells us what we want to know!_

But we can't do that!

_Why not?_ Tobiume shouted back. _You're so naive, you dumb little girl! How many times do you have to fall prey to the same thing, over and over? The world is made of two kinds of people - those who suffer and those who let others suffer for them. You decide which group you want to belong to - I'm tired of being the victim. I would rather be the predator - now start ripping his fucking fingernails off and get some answers out of him!_

Tobiume, stop it!

_Stop letting yourself get bruised, you unripe peach! RIP HIS BLOODY FUCKING FINGERNAILS OFF, CHEW THEM UP **AND SPIT THEM DOWN HIS THROAT!**_

Momo was aghast at her own soul's feelings, but she couldn't deny that the urge was there - the impulsive, painful urge to inflict gross, inhuman, incomprehensible violence. There was truth in what Tobiume was saying - there was definitely truth to it. Momo had been used, discarded, and used again; and now she had a chance to do the right thing - to find Q and avenge Rangiku - and this enemy agent was in the way. He was not a person - he was an _obstacle_. And Momo was angry, so angry; angry that they had done this to her friends and to her comrades and she wanted them all to _die_ - and then to reincarnate just so that they could die _again._

Hinamori was in a tizzy. Her own indecision was paralyzing her. But I can't do that, Tobiume - that's just - that's inhumane!

_You stupid pussy._

Momo could not believe that Tobiume had just called her that. _What_ did you say? What did you just call me?

_I called you a stupid pussy, you stupid pussy. You have a problem with that?_

Yes, I do!

_WELL THEN FUCKING COME AND GET ME, YOU **BABY!**_

_Girls, girls,_ Kyouka Suigetsu interceded, his voice calm and friendly. _Let's stop pretending that we're each other's enemies. We all have the same goal, right? Let's deal with this Watson fellow and not fight each other. We can settle personal disagreements later, don't you think?_

_Fine,_ Tobiume huffed, although not so harshly.

Momo sighed. She was glad that was done with, but she had been influenced by Tobiume's arguments. She _was_ being a baby. The urge to maim Watson was a strong twitch, an itch she just couldn't satisfy; just like the nicotine addiction that was nagging at her and nagging at her and her brain was just beginning to burn with a desire to shove her sword down his throat and scream for a smoke and-

**_NO,_** Momo said to herself, trying to collect herself, absentmindedly reaching for the empty pack of cigarettes in her pocket, mentally swearing upon feeling the void inside - and not just the void inside the empty cigarette pack. She wanted a cigarette (or two or three) and her throat was dry just thinking about the withdrawal.

Watson was watching her with profound interest. The 5th division's lieutenant's eyes were twitching back and forth, and her body was constantly in fretting motion. Shit, that girl is _fucked. up._ It's too bad, she always seemed like a sweet kid.

His reflective thoughts unfortunately meant that Watson wasn't paying enough attention. Suddenly, in an angry wail of impulsive frustration, Momo lunged at him; savagely punching him in the face with a bare-knuckled crunch. Before he could realize it, her bitter tears were dripping on his face, which was then pounded once _*CRACK*_, twice _*CRACK*_, thrice _*CRACK*_ into the stone floor as she vented her furious rage and stress and melancholy and withdrawal. His head was ringing, his eyes were unfocused and he was now bleeding from the ear.

"Tell me how to get in touch with Morgan, you piece of shit, or I _will_ kill you!" she yelled, crying as though _she_ was the one who was being beaten. "I'll do it, I _swear_ I will, you - you, you, you, you- _aaahhhh_!" she screamed, unable to find a satisfying enough word and instead just slammed his head into the stone floor again.

Watson could barely keep conscious. Had he made a grave mistake? Had he had misjudged her? He had no idea. She was still on top of him, clutching his collar with both fists, swearing and whimpering ("shit, shit, shit, oh shit, oh shit"), and he had a vague feeling that she was flipping out.

"Listen to me," she pleaded in between muttered _'ksa'_s and _'chikusho'_s. "You're going to die of cerebral hemorrhage unless you tell me the truth. I can heal you with kido - I can, I promise - just give me a reason, okay? Please, don't make me do this. Oh, no, you can't just die, you have to want to live, right? C'mon, please, don't make me kill you. I don't want to kill you - but, but..."

The sound of confused mercy and remorse in her voice gave him hope, and he summoned his strength to focus.

"...B_ut I will if you make me!"_

But then Watson realized he was in way over his head. He better tell her everything she wanted to know, or otherwise she really would kill him.

Because the dark, cold, neverending blackness in the woman's eyes gave him no doubt that a significant part of Hinamori Momo would actually savor killing him in cold blood.

-:-

Rukia exited the senkai gate to find Ichigo standing in a grassy plain. She knew she was somewhere in Mexico but had arrived by tracking Ichigo's coordinates rather than by map, so she had no idea where she was. Not that it mattered.

"Hi," Ichigo said, his voice stiff and closed.

Rukia wrapped her arms around his waist, and held him, feeling his rare tears fall into her hair. "I'm sorry, Ichigo."

"It isn't fair," he said. "He wasn't even thirty. He had a whole life ahead of him."

"Soldiers are prepared to fall in battle," Rukia answered softly. It was harsh, but it was the truth. Ichigo never asked her to mince words, but to remind him of who he was. That was how they did things. "And Chad died a soldier. We must honor his bravery, no matter how much we are upset by his misfortune."

Ichigo didn't seem to respond, but she didn't give it much heed. Instead, she held him tightly, knowing that was what he needed right now. It was a rare moment these days that Ichigo was the one of them who needed comforting, and Rukia was inspired by the opportunity to do her part right now. "He was quiet. I didn't really know him that well," Rukia admitted.

"No one did."

"But I knew he was a good man, with a good heart, and he was a good friend. And in truth, Ichigo, there is little we can say about another that is more precious than that."

Ichigo nodded, and Rukia could feel his arms tighten around her tiny frame. "True."

"C'mon, Ichigo."

Ichigo sighed and let go of her. From the small pack he had taken with him, he removed a large tupperware container. Pausing, he turned to Rukia with a curious look on his face. "I remember you telling me once that shinigami have some sort of last rites."

Rukia nodded, and quietly recited the epithet: _"May you pass into the land of the living, and return to us once more."_ It reminded her of her own lost third seat. Rukia was sorry that she had not been able to perform the last rites for Kotsubaki Sentaro, but he had received them from a captain of the Gotei 13; a worthy sending.

Ichigo chuckled. "I guess it can't be that bad, then."

Rukia's face twisted in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

For the first time since Ichigo's return to Soul Society to discuss the epsilon blades, his scowl dissipated. In its place, a true smile began to emerge, and the life in his brown eyes began to return. Boldly, he ripped open the tupperware lid and flung the container of Chad's ashes high into the air, allowing the wind to scatter them in every possible direction.

_"May you pass into the land of souls, and may we find you there really soon!"_ Ichigo shouted at the top of his lungs. His voice carried across the grassy field in all directions, and Rukia's heart lifted with grand inspiration.

"Ichigo," she said softly with a smile. He really was something else sometimes. What, she wasn't sure, but he was something else.

"Rukia," he answered, lifting her up off her feet into a princess-carry. _"Here."_

"Here! ?" she asked incredulously. "But-!"

"They say that a phoenix will rise in the ashes of the fallen. _Here._"

"Idiot," she teased lovingly, stroking his cheek as she shook her head. "I have a history with phoenixes, you know."

They laughed, and the laughter continued into soft kisses, and before long, they were addressing the minor inconvenience of detaching Ichigo from his earthly body. Naked amongst the tall, lush grasses of the fields of rural Mexico, they celebrated the life of one now past and one that they both hoped might come from their intertwined souls.

-:-

Hisagi answered his cell phone. "Hello?"

It was Renji. "I'm going drinking with Iba-san. We're going to Miyagusuku's. We'll meet you there."

"Sorry, but I can't come."

"Wha? Why not?"

"I can't tonight," Hisagi answered.

"Dude, your only good excuse is that your lady is wearing hot lingere and beckoning you right this minute."

"Get your mind out of the gutter," Shuuhei responded. Of course, now all he could think about was Nanao in those nice red lacy things...

"Henpecked? Ise Shosho got you on a leash, eh? Can't have a drink with your captain?" Renji barbed.

"Quit it," Hisagi said. "I'm busy. Some other time."

"Whatever," Renji replied. "See ya."

Hisagi hung up the phone and went to go check in the crib.

Still sleeping, he thought, relieved. Because the baby couldn't cry, he generally had to check on it every fifteen minutes or so, to make sure that everything was okay. He was probably being slightly paranoid, but it was warranted. If those diapers leaked, he wanted to catch it before it got ridiculous.

Being a new father was tough, especially since almost no one could know about it. Nanao took the day shift with the little one, since as a general she could set her own schedule and work during the night hours. But on Hisagi's off hours, the baby was all his. He knew that Nanao's position as the Commander of the Kido Corps was a busy job - they had been deployed in Europe as backup in case the 'Vasto Lorde Mop-Up Plan' went sour - and Nanao herself was off running errands. Things never slowed down; but Hisagi was pretty sure that was a good thing.

Shuuhei didn't mind. He liked watching the baby. Kazeshini made endless fun of him about it, which was a sure sign that it was good for him. He had gotten used to preparing the bottles, changing the diapers, doing tons of laundry - he really didn't mind. There was something about holding a child in his arms, rocking it to sleep, and watching it suck its tiny thumb that brought him great satisfaction. He knew that this time wouldn't last forever, so he wanted to soak it all in; remember the simple pleasures a tiny baby brought you. The baby's bright green eyes, a magical marvel of which Hisagi could find no parallel, were invigorating and inspiring. Getting drunk seemed dull by comparison.

-:-

Hoshimura Makina had been a Rukongai brat for the first half of her life, and knew this area quite well. The Banzo House majordomo had come a long way, but this place was still her origins. An illegitimate-but-still-loved daughter of the Kilikum family in the Lower Noble Court, she had grown up just outside the walls of the Sereitei with her mother, a former servant girl. Her father, who could not be credited for raising her but at the very least acknowledging that he needed to provide for her, had seen to it that she and her mother lived in relative comfort and that Makina had gotten a decent education - enough to read and write and to know her numbers. He had also seen to it that she received new clothing every year on her birthday, which had been a key factor in making sure that Makina was presentable enough to find good work. Makina rarely ever saw him (it was sort of an unspoken rule that he couldn't publicly acknowledge she existed), but she knew he loved her, and the feeling was mutual. She was luckier than lucky to have been given the best a Rukongai brat could ever hope to get, and unlike most other illegitimate children of the noble ruling class that were sent out to the streets, Makina had a confidence that came from never feeling like she was subhuman.

Because of her well-to-do upringing, she had no trouble finding good jobs at a young age. Makina had worked for many of the Lower Court families before managing to break into the Middle Court after the Tsukabishi Family had made some connections for her. From there, she had climbed quickly; gracing through the Yokai, Tamaka and Toridano Families over the years until she was recruited by the Kasumi-Ouji Family; the very top of the Middle Court. If it was not for the fact that it lacked royal bloodlines, it would have been counted in the Upper Noble Families.

She had worked there for three years until she had found an open position within the Urahara Family, and when Banzo Ichihime had ascended to Head of House, Makina paid close attention. Sure enough, the previous majordomo - a man named Mikoro who was very ill-respected by all - had been booted out on his ass, and Makina had swiftly applied. She was young for such an important role, but she had a good history and Ichihime-sama liked her. Makina found Ichihime-sama the best employer she had ever had. The pay was _incredible_, much more than anything she had ever expected to earn in her lifetime; and her master, while tough and hard on the exterior, was a surprisingly good person on the inside. Ichihime-sama treated Makina like a friend, and Makina never had that relationship with her employer before. She had friends, but they were always her social peers; servant girls and Rukongai residents just trying to make a living. But she had been treated like an equal in many respects, and that was something she cherished.

As a result, Makina was incredibly devoted to her master. She did everything diligently and perfectly. She was meticulous. And if that meant that fulfilling Ichihime-sama's requests involved something that might make her hands dirty, Makina was extremely careful to make sure that Ichihime-sama knew nothing about it, nor anyone else. And Makina was very good at what she did. She made sure nothing she did would tarnish her master's reputation - but more importantly, her _friend's_ reputation.

Makina knocked on the door to the old house. Finding this address had been an escapade that metaphorically involved twisting a few arms and quite a bit of cash for jogging people's memories. But if she was correct - and of course she would be, she was Hoshimura Makina - then it would be worth it.

The door slowly opened, and an elderly woman answered the door. She was very beautiful despite her age, with long gray silken hair in a ponytail and tiny crow's feet. Her face suggested weariness, but her smile was rejuvenating. "Hello? Can I help you?"

"I hope so," Makina asked. "Although perhaps I should come in. It would be easier to explain."

The older woman's smile seemed to weaken. "Perhaps you could clarify the nature of your request."

"I'm sorry," Makina apologized, pretending to be confused. "Are you not Unohana Huchikachi-san?"

The woman frowned. "...I am."

Makina smiled seditiously in response to the all-too-telling frown. _Bingo._ "Then I would imagine that your former clientele, _Hoochie-Coochie-sama_, would prefer to have their business discussed somewhere other than the street."

The woman's brow stretched bitterly, but she quickly escorted Makina inside and shut the door tightly afterwards. "How did you find me?" she asked angrily.

"Not so easily," Makina said evasively.

"How do you know who I am?" Unohana insisted, losing her patience.

"Everybody knows who Hoochie-Coochie is," Makina smirked, dodging the question again.

The elderly woman pulled a stilletto from her bosom. "Enough," she threatened. _"Out with it."_

Makina shrugged. "Finding your location was easy, once I knew your identity. I simply followed your grandson on his way to your house on his last visit. Kitsune-chan is adorable, you should know."

Huchikachi frowned and remained ready to attack if needed. "And how did you find out my identity?"

"Now _that_ was not easy," Makina admitted. "Not easy at all. But it so happens that I got really lucky. Lady Merangue orchestrated a pass-the-handshake from you to a yakuza head named Hodo and back. The courier she used was actually an old childhood friend of mine. Because you had closed up shop, you needed a new mailing address for messages. Once I found your private PO Box, a little coin and a short skirt got me to your new alias, Kiyomoto Azusa.

"Now I should have been stuck there, but fortunately for me, I have connections in the Gotei 13. Someone I used to work for didn't want the world to know about his mistress, so he gladly let me trade a little hushup in order to let me dig through the shinigami message archives a while back. I happen have a phenomenal memory - it really does come in handy - and had already recognized the name Kiyomoto Azusa from there. So I went back, made a couple of pockets a bit richer, and found a series of messages by that alias that went back and forth with Unohana Retsu. On a hunch, I took a spaghetti-strap dress and a rosy smile to Sereitei the next day and managed to get access to Unohana Retsu's personnel file, where your _real_ name appeared. From there, it was simply your personal name - 'Huchikachi' to 'Hoochie Coochie' - that pretty much confirmed my suspicion."

Huchikachi was furious, though she contained herself. "You're _nosy_."

"But effective, you have to admit," Makina confirmed. "And I didn't even have to sleep with anyone, either. It was quite impressive, if I do say so myself."

"And now what do you want from me?" the elderly woman glared at the cocky teenager. "Come to ask me to turn a trick for you? I've retired."

"You know full well I'm not here for that," Makina chided.

"I don't plan on selling secrets, either, if that's what you're hoping for."

"Well, I was hoping you wouldn't _sell_ them, actually," Makina said honestly. "I was personally just hoping you could _tell_ me them."

"And why would I do _that_?" Unohana asked, highly suspicious.

"Because you want to," Makina explained. "Because you know everything there is to know about Central 46. Your services have been employed by them for over a thousand years. You know everything about the system from the inside - you know how corrupt it is and everything that's wrong with it."

Unohana let her threatening pose relax but didn't put the dagger away. "I made a lot of money off of their corruption," she hedged. "Prostitution thrives when those in power don't have to answer to anyone. I don't see why you think I would be willing to help you."

"Oh, c'mon, you and I are both smarter than that," Makina dismissed. "That's true, but you're not a pimpette anymore, are you? You've quit the business; closed up shop. You can't tell me that you honestly think what we have is a fair and just system, do you?"

Huchikachi had to give the girl credit. She had a point. "...I won't disagree with you."

"So then I need your help. There's reform legislation that will be introduced in a week and a half that will need broad support across the Council for Nobility. Some... _convincing_ will be needed."

"Blackmail."

"I suppose some might call it that," Makina smiled. "But not always. There could be other incentives to get on board."

"Bribery. Tit-for-tat and backroom trade deals."

"Perhaps," Makina admitted. "But reform would open up the cesspool of corruption in Central 46 and begin the process of scrubbing it away. Or, if you want me to play it heavy-handed, I could pin last decade's Winter War Fiasco on the fact that no one had any insight into what the hell was going on inside Central 46. Surely you can't think we were smart to keep the status quo after that?"

Unohana was cautious. This teenager was clever and way more resourceful than she ought to be. "What is your involvement in all of this? What do you hope to accomplish?"

"_Me?_ Nothing," Makina answered. "I'm quite happy with what I have right now, and honestly, the only reason I care is because my master's request was to do 'opposition research'. I am merely fulfilling that fair inquiry with the best possible means I know how," she smirked.

Huchikachi was irritated. One of the things about being a prostitute was that you were a sideline in politics, part of the ruckus and the high life but avoiding being an actual party to it. "This needs to be an equal trade. Who are you? Who's putting you up to this? Who is it? I need insurance. If your master screws me, I need to be able to punish them for even thinking of it. And when Hoochie-Coochie punishes someone, you really didn't want to know what it involves. So you better tell me and hope that your master isn't in over their head. 'Fess up, before I kick you out of this house and call the yakuza to take you away."

Makina was left without much of a choice. She gambled it all on her master's name. "My master, the honorable and esteemed Head of House, _Banzo Ichihime_-no-kimi."

Unohana Huchikachi started laughing and carefully replaced the stilleto in her bosom. "Well, then, why didn't you say so?" she laughed. "Little Ichihime-sama has finally decided to show her hand," she chuckled. "If there's anyone who was serious about reforms, it would be her. Alright, this is something I have to party to, if only because it'll be the most fun I've had in ages. Then you must be her majordomo-"

"Hoshimura Makina," she offered.

"Yes, yes; I remember. From Kilikum Koniaji and his servant girl, right?"

Makina's lips twisted upwards into a devious smile. "You really do know everything, don't you?"

The wise old woman's smile grew even wider. "Okay, Hoshimura-san, what kinds of skeletons do you need dragged out of the closet? Because there's _lots _of juicy stuff to talk about. Sit down and I'll make some tea. We'll need at least two pots before we even scratch the surface," she chuckled.

"I brought cake!" Makina proffered from her satchel, taking it out along with a huge notebook and a bag of pens, pencils, sharpeners, and sticky-notes. "I didn't want to impose _too_ much," she teased.

Huchikachi started cracking up. "You really are the most confident kid I've ever met. You came here already knowing you were going to get everything you wanted, didn't you?"

Makina laughed. She wasn't a majordomo for nothing.

-:-

Tatsuki wasn't so surprised that a senkai gate opened up in the center of the oncology wing; she was more surprised when someone new came through.

The female shinigami was of average height and had raven-black, medium-length hair hanging loose. Blue eyes and an angular chin made her look distinctly like a Kuchiki - in fact, Tatsuki would have immediately assumed she was Rukia's older sister if it weren't for the fact that she knew Hisana was deceased.

Tatsuki had learned a long time ago that not all shinigami are good news. Wary of unannounced company, she pulled out her Division Black insignia - a non-functioning equivalent of Ichigo's substitute shinigami badge - and flashed it to the guest. "Division Black 4th Seat, Arisawa Tatsuki. This hospital already has shinigami coverage. Please state your name and rank." It was the first time she had recited her new title, and although she hid it well, the thought made Tatsuki miss Chad.

The woman appeared mildly surprised at her directive, but Tatsuki thought that was normal because she likely assumed that no one could see her enter. "Unseated officer of division 1, Rebu Taki," the woman answered, reaching for her face absentmindedly.

Tatsuki eyed the woman warily. "What's your business here?"

The woman hesitated for a minute. "I was told I could inquire here about Lieutenant Kuchiki's schedule."

Tatsuki gave the woman a skeptical look. "Rukia-san's schedule?"

The woman nodded. "The late Sasakibe Fukutaicho had a copy of her schedule, but we cannot seem to locate it. We believe you may be able to tell us when she will be next returning to Soul Society."

Tatsuki was suspicious. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

The woman was beginning to get exasperated. "I didn't come here to antagonize anyone. I'm simply here to find out when we can schedule the next vice captain's meeting. I was told that both Kuchiki Fukutaicho and Kurosaki Taicho are currently burdened with very serious assignments and cannot be disturbed or bothered by trivial logistics. Personnel records indicated that because you work here with Kurosaki Taicho, that you may be able to answer our questions without us having to bother them. Now if it's okay with you, can you just help me so that our very grumpy Soutaicho doesn't make me clean the toilets for my epic failure to get even a simple secretarial assignment complete?"

Thinking it over, Tatsuki decided that the woman's request was harmless, despite her nagging suspicion. It wasn't like the request was so unreasonable. "Fine. Give me a minute."

Tatsuki went to the computer and pulled up a calendar. Ichigo was still on personal leave, in order to take Chad's ashes to Mexico, and knew that Rukia was out there with him for the next few days. When he got back, he had six straight days of double shifts - a good indication that his wife wouldn't be around. "I can't tell you for sure, but my best guess is that Rukia-san should be returning to Soul Society when her husband gets back here, in about two days- uh, barring extenuating circumstances."

"Thank you so much, Arisawa-san," the woman bowed graciously.

"I'll let Ichigo and Rukia-san know you were here."

"No need," the woman replied casually. "We'll send word that we've scheduled the meeting. Like I said, I was asked not to bother her."

"Alright," Tatsuki shrugged. She felt fairly disgruntled that she had just been relegated to shinigami secretary, but went back to preparing for her next oncology patient as the 1st division officer returned through the senkai gate.

-:-

Kyon could not believe his eyes. His love was so alive.

Naga Toyuki - whom he now knew that her real full name was Shihoin Toyuki Tokine (Naga was her widow's name and would eventually be discarded now that she had returned to her House), and preferred to go by the abbreviated name 'Toki' - was awash in music, the thunderous volume of a surround-sound speaker system in her room playing music nonstop, from dawn until dusk. It was a motley collection of classical music, aggressive rock, rap music, jazz, country, and everything in between. Anything that featured guitar, piano, violin, cello, trumpets, or saxophones could be heard throughout all of Shihoin manor. Kyon had never heard such an eclectic taste of music. There was plenty of it that he didn't like - but he didn't care.

Music had awakened Toki in ways he had never seen before. When notes were in the air, her face was filled with vibrant emotion; happiness, sadness, joy, anger, excitement and disappointment. Real emotion; emotion that he hadn't seen on her face in all the time he had known and cared for her. It was as if each song told her a new story, and in each tune she learned a new feeling. Kyon watched in wonder, sitting quietly, as she pranced around the room; tapping her feet, snapping her fingers, clapping; clicking her tongue and otherwise sliding into rhythm with whatever was playing. There were times she even burst into spontaneous dance; shuffling this way and that in a sort of clumsy, uncoordinated matter. It was the most amazing spectacle to behold; a life that he never thought he would ever see.

There were some songs where Toki would eat a huge bowl of rice, spooning it into her mouth in time with the music. She was eating remarkably well now - pork dumplings, shrimp tempura, eel sushi, and mountains and mountains of onigiri, her favorite. He had never seen her eat like this - but she was moving all the time; bouncing, hopping, leaping, dancing, _living._ It was as if she had been given back a piece of her missing soul. It was no surprise she needed more calories.

At nights, when it was time for Shihoin Zarina to go to bed, the music was turned down and typically shifted to quiet, relaxing "elevator music" as Kyon liked to call it. She would fall asleep to it, insisting that Kyon stay with her; and he would tuck her in. He would fall asleep next to her, and would be woken up by the bursting sound of a loud guitar riff, a thundering base or crash of a cymbal, and another day of unbelievable magic would begin.

Their relationship was getting easier. Toki was adapting. He couldn't interpret sign language, but she used it frequently now to communicate with Dame Yoruichi, Sir Kisuke, and other shinigami. Kyon wasn't surprised that she found it a more comfortable way to converse than speech. Although it was still very rare, she would talk to him now, but only a few words at a time. He didn't mind. She would still speak with a flat, monotone, nonemotive intonation, but he loved to listen to her nonetheless. Things were changing, slowly but surely. He was a patient man, and he was just happy to see her so alive. Kyon didn't think that Toki would ever be capable of normal social interaction, or be allowed out of controlled environments - but there was hope that she might be capable of once again serving the 4th division, even if only a small capacity. He prayed for it every day. She needed it; for her own sake. She needed to be part of regular life again, rather than squirreled away as though there was something wrong with her.

On this particular morning, Kyon awoke to find her standing next to his bed. They had moved a second bed in the room, set against the opposite wall so as not to threaten Toki's space. Kyon had just about moved in with her, seeing as how she had wanted him with her nearly all the time. It was not uncommon for her to wake him up - she seemed to prefer going to bed early and waking early, whereas he was a late riser so that he could watch her fall asleep. The difference was that today, Toki had chosen not to get dressed after her morning shower, as she was wearing nothing but a towel. Her limpid wet hair was combed in its usual bob, and it dripped onto the towel in an unceremonious fashion.

She was still, despite the fact that the music blaring in the background would have normally had her sliding about. It was a jazzy blues number called "If You See Kay, Tell Her That's What I Want". Kyon had heard it before amongst the extensive rotation, but that was not surprising given the fact that music was streaming 24/7.

"Uh, good morning."

"Yes," she said flatly, no different than usual.

"Um, you're not dressed," Kyon fumbled, not sure what else to say.

"Yes," she answered again.

"Are you out of clothes? Do you need me to get you something from the laundry staff?"

"No," she answered, and Kyon suddenly thought it felt very warm in the room.

"Ah, oka-"

Toki put her finger to her lips in the universal gesture of silence, and Kyon was still. "Don't move," she instructed, and he complied. It was the first command she had ever given him, considering that she almost never said anything other than yes or no.

She removed the towel, tossing it to the side; and Kyon beheld her. She, standing; he, sitting - neither did anything but look. He admired her petite figure, how her unique skin was unblemished. Her original plum hair was much more evident in the nude, and he found himself tracing his eyes over her hips, knees, ankles, and toes; and soaking in the lithe grace of her forearms and shoulders.

In truth, she was not a curvy woman, nor athletic; and her presence was, in all honesty, not in any way erotic. It was a simple presentation of who she was, bare and exposed. Her breasts were not particularly noteworthy, the curve of her waist merely a subtle indentation. Both were merely enough to reveal that, despite her petite size, she was clearly a woman rather than a child; but not much more than that.

What was most odd, though, was her skin. It was extremely surprising. Her skin that was normally covered was actually a _much_ darker shade than her face and hands; a shade much more reminiscent of the normal Shihoin complexion - not as dark as Dame Yoruichi, but close. Her dark brown skin was a solid flow of cocoa-shaded smoothness, only to have it immediately invert to a moon-tinged pale glow upwards from her collarbone and past her biceps and calves. It was almost as though the sun (or lack of it?) had bleached her skin rather than tanning it. The "inverse tan lines" were uniquely bizarre - for there really was no other word to describe how odd it was - but he found them enrapturing; the most hypnotic thing he had ever seen.

Kyon's eyes cherished everything he saw, and Toki watched him, content. She did not move, she did not flinch, she did not even seem to emote at all. The only movement that could be found was the blinking of her eyes every other moment as they followed Kyon's glances all over; their implicit meaning evident to only the two of them.

They remained motionless for minutes, speechless. Partly because of anxiety, partly because they both knew that neither needed to say a word. The moment held until Toki finally put her hand to her lips once more in a gesture of silence, and closed her eyes in an instructive fashion. Kyon complied, letting his eyelids slowly seal after absorbing her innocent beauty once more, and listened to the patter of her footsteps towards the bathroom, where the door closed.

Opening his eyes as she emerged, she was now fully clothed in her shinigami uniform; her dark Shihoin skin and royal plum foliage completely hidden underneath. He smiled, relieved to see her despite the fact that she had only been in front of him moments before. To his incredible wonder, her own face formed a deep smile, an amazingly magnanimous gesture that made him melt inside.

They never touched that morning, not even for a second - but it was the first time that Naga-Shihoin Toyuki Tokine and Kiyonimus K.T.T.R. Kandros made love.

-:-

_Back to the here and now_

Isane rushed to Yumichika's room, with her younger sister Kiyone in hot pursuit. An entire crew was there - 4th division group leaders were barking orders and machinery was chirping. Kido was radiating from the room, and Isane could tell they were struggling - but before she could make it through the doorway, a shockwave explosion rumbled through the hospital, and Isane was forced to brace herself in the doorframe.

The hammer panel knocked hard as one of the 4th division hospital guards shouted the alarm. _"The infirmary is under attack!"_

Unohana suddenly rushed by on fleeted foot, Minazuki drawn and ready, right past Isane and out the door. Isane could barely get a sense of what was happening.

It was surreal - an attack on the Central Infirmary? That was unheard of - that had never happened before. The Central Infirmary was deeply embedded inside the very center of the Gotei 13 compound, surrounded on all sides by shinigami forces and had extra anti-Garganta technology to prevent invasions. What the hell was going on? This is the second time high-level hollow have made it into the Sereitei by force! Who the hell is doing this?

Isane was brought back from her disbelief as she saw Kiyone dashing down the hall, her long-whip shikai Masticora already released. In a hazy rush of adrenaline, Isane's instincts kicked in. She ordered the officers present to do what they could for Yumichika, and then Itegumo was in hand as she followed after her captain and sister. As vice captain, protocol demanded that she defend the building along with her captain.

Pushing out the doors of the hospital, her captain was engaged in a vicious swordfight with three high-level adjuchas all at once. Kiyone had already gone bankai, her five huge masticores pouncing upon an army of gillians. Isane herself was attacked by a small grasshopper-like hollow, although a quick slash of her katana solved that problem rather quickly.

Isane went into overdrive, firing Shots of Red Fire in a rapid fire chain. Hado was not her specialty, and she could only chain three at once without pausing - but each blast was strong enough to burn through several nameless hollow, and in a back-field support position, she was able to help keep the field clean enough for her captain and sister to tackle the bigger threats. The onslaught, however, was relentless, and it took all of Isane's concentration to protect the last line of defense by the infirmary's entrance.

Isane dodged left as a gillian's massive bony head came crashing down, viciously torn off its base by one of Kiyone's bankai-manifested scorpion-lions. It was then that the remaining gillians began to charge for a cero. The other masticores tore down two gillians, causing a domino effect, but that was little cause for celebration. There were still an entire platoon of the mindless monstrosities who were as of yet still well out of reach.

_Ksa!_ Isane swore, knowing that a cero blast from thirty or so gillians would decimate the infimary. That would be a crippling blow to the Gotei 13; it was unimaginable. Isane watched in horror, pausing only to stab through a hollow's throat or kick a hollow's mask in, as the combined red beams of death burst forward with a surging intensity that would surely leave a massive crater in 4th division's home of operations.

_"SANTEN KESSHUN, I REJECT!"_

With the most enormous blaze of energy, a colossal triangle of yellow crystal energy burst forth from behind Isane, creating an enormous defense shield. It was unspeakably large - nearly a half-kilometer across on edge. The red blast roasted and roiled against it, but it held fast.

Isane looked behind her to see Orihime - well, a specter of she used to be, anyway - but the determined look of resolve was forged on her face against the bare auburn peach fuzz lining her scalp. Not bad, Isane smiled happily, especially considering that we all thought she had lost her Shun Shun Rikka for good.

And then, not surprisingly, Orihime collapsed.

Isane was at her side in a minute, but the hollow onslaught continued. Isane was supposed to be providing cover - but she didn't need to worry for very long, since there was no way Ishida wasn't going to show up after Orihime's little stunt. Sure enough, he was running right towards them, his bug-spray volley of Quincy arrows hosing down the smaller hollows and allowing additional backup to flood the battlefield.

A large number of gillians suddenly exploded in a shatterblock of ice as Hitsugaya's shikai ripped through them. Isane couldn't follow the aftermath; she had hoisted Orihime up as though Isane was the Prince Charming To Her Rescue and took her back inside. The last death throes of one of the leading adjuchas could be heard against the fight with her captain, and out of the corner of her eye, Isane saw Komamura Taicho arriving for backup. Satisfied that things were under control - she could hear Komamura's massive-bladed shikai smashing down the gillian armies like they were insignificant bugs - Isane tried to make sure the infirmary was back in order.

It was absolute chaos. Patients were panicking, trying to find out more information about whether or not they were going to be relocated - it was horrible. Isane gave orders left and right to stay put, that the threat was being quelled by a significant response force and everybody should calm down. After getting Orihime back into her bed (and telling Hiyori to disconnect from the dialysis machine, just in case), Isane desperately checked rooms as she passed down the hall. Room after room, she verified that no one was hurt or wounded, and checked to make sure that none of the patients had been spooked too badly. There was one patient, though, whom she was certain had fallen victim to the attack outside.

Unfortunately, her premonitions proved correct. By the time Isane made it back to Yumichika's room, it was too late. Another captain was dead.

That's it, Isane swore. This is all-out war. And I'm going to make them regret it. _No one messes with my hospital!_

* * *

_Extra points if you caught the Miyagusuku reference (Blood+). **Reviews, please! **Please don't skimp, you know I love the love. Next chapter: Hellos and goodbyes, some very much unexpected._


	31. Shikata Ga Nai

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note:** According to canon, Yamada Seinosuke is Hanataro's brother. However, the Kuchiki Salvation Trilogy was published before this canonical fact was revealed and assigned Seinosuke as Hanataro's adoptive father. For the sake of continuity, I will continue to treat Seinosuke as Hanataro's father in this work. Also, there are many, many references to the KS trilogy in this chapter, and so if you haven't read them, you may be scratching your head for a moment; but you should be able to get the gist of what's going on._

_**Translator's note:** The Japanese expression 'Shikata ga nai' is literally translated as 'There is no choice' or 'There is no other option'. Like English, it can be a very weighty expression (although neutral - it can be good or bad, depending on the context). But in Japanese culture, it is also understood as a philosophical mantra about life and the eternal struggle. So it is more than just a saying; it implies a deeper sense of commitment and an outlook that 'life just is' or 'sometimes we must compromise' and 'you have to simply deal with it'. It is, in many ways, a metaphor for making sure that one's feet are still on the ground. In that sense, it can easily mean "Okay, whatever." So the meaning depends on the context._

* * *

_"Shikata ga nai."_  
_~Kenpachi Hisagi Shuuhei's reminder to his division about the inevitability of dying in battle; approximately 200 years from now_

_"...Do not be silly, Zarina-chan. I cannot be concerned with Yamada Uchii's opinion, no matter how charming, handsome, and charismatic he may be. He is... he is a commoner. And even if I was concerned with his opinion... I am a noble, and so... shikata ga nai. So as you can tell, I have no choice but to pretend that I do not care."_  
_~Kuchiki Hisako, in a rare admittance of her inner feelings to her friend, Shihoin Zarina; about 160 years into the future_

_"What can I say? Shikata ga nai."_  
_~Nanao to her sister Rukia, explaining why she finally put aside her feminist principles enough to marry Hisagi Shuuhei;_ _18 months from now_

_"Shikata ga nai."_  
_~Head of House Banzo Ichihime, on why she had 22 children (despite being an only child herself) after the Royal Banzo Bloodline almost went extinct; around 200 years from now_

_"I'm not going to cry, Kitsune-kun. My mother made me promise. So I won't. **Shikata. Ga. Nai.** I refuse to cry... even though I really want to."_  
_~Hitsugaya Makahiro, after his mother's tombstone was vandalized; 70 years into the future_

_"We are shinigami. We must understand the balance between life and death. And to hollows, souls who need only the guidance we provide, we must deliver death; no matter how tragic. Shikata ga nai. This is the way Fate declared the cosmic order of the universe. I - and you - must follow Fate's wisdom."_  
_~Komamura Saijin, educating his son Kitsune in the ways of his philosophy, after Kitsune became old enough to enter Shinoi Academy_

_"Yeah, well, you were busy. Shikata ga nai, right?"_  
_~Kurosaki Ichigo, easily forgiving his wife Rukia for forgetting to tell him about her promotion to 3rd division captain until three days later_

* * *

_"Don't get so down on yourself, Kanchi-chan. Bankai was the second hardest thing I think I've ever done in my life. It's not easy. You shouldn't stress out because you're having trouble. It takes time."_

_Shiba Kanchi looked at her aunt like she was nuts. "The **second** hardest? Obasama, what in the world could possibly be harder than learning bankai?"_

_Kuukaku sighed and grumbled. Somehow, Hisako-chan had managed to pick up both of her parents' shortcomings. "Raising children."_

_~Conversation between aunt and niece, about 200 years from now_

* * *

Ichihime could not believe what her majordomo had handed her. "Makina-chan, this has to be at least three hundred pages."

"I aim to please, Ichihime-sama," Makina smirked.

Ichihime's eyes narrowed. "...I'm going to hazard a guess that not everything in here was obtained legally."

Makina shrugged. "I had one ore more informants who volunteered the information. That's not necessarily illegal, Ichihime-sama."

"Makina-chan," Ichihime said wearily, "I'm going to need cover stories on how I got this information. People are going to ask a lot of questions."

"Already in there," Makina answered. "As much as I could. I gave you several proposals when that information was possible, Ichihime-sama."

Ichihime looked at her sharply. "With potential consequences and complications?"

"Yes, everything; Ichihime-sama."

"Makina-chan, I don't pay you enough," the Banzo Princess laughed.

"Yes you do," Makina chuckled back.

Ichihime surveyed the pages for a minute or two. "I see here that you also think I should meet with Ryogi-san first."

Makina nodded. "Shall I make the call?"

"Yes," Ichihime concluded. "And make sure it's clear that we intend to play nice."

"_Hai,_ Ichihime-sama," and Makina went off to make the arrangements.

-:-

Jones prayed silently. Jenkins was on his left; Roberts on his right. They were beseeching Kathura to answer them, to deliver them from their troubles and to crush the shinigami. The storms of hollows and terror on Earth had not been enough to weaken them.

Kathura would give them their revenge. He was certain of it. Then, no longer would the dead pass on into the wretched hell they called Soul Society. What a sad ending for humanity - to starve and die in one far corner of the impovershed earth, only to land in an even more hopeless rathole in the Rukongai.

No, Jones would never go back there. He would never go back there again. Kathura would demolish the pathways between worlds, grind them and stop them, cutting off the realms of Hell, Hueco Mundo, and Soul Society; leaving mankind to ascend only to Paradise.

But stopping the shinigami forces and their allies had been tougher than they had initially expected. The collapse of the Eiffel Tower, the chaos and war in Europe - it had tied up the shinigami forces to a large extent, but the captains and vice captains were the real strength of the Gotei 13. It had been very hard to get at them. Seeing as how those shinigami were tucked away in the relatively inaccessible Soul Society, they had to deal with the allies that had lived on Earth first - the vaizard - in order to draw them out of Soul Society.

They had tried giving one of their zombies a powerful chi zanpakutou. While it had done an admirable job for a first-time experiment, the Ragnarok-wielding undead had been taken down without doing enough damage. You would think that the sword of a former shinigami commander was enough to take out a vaizard in a wheelchair. True, he had managed to knock off one of the others, but it was clear that this strategy wasn't suitable for assassination.

Unfortunately, it would take more than a demon-sword-wielding zombie to disrupt the network of support that the vaizard possessed. Thankfully, that shit-for-brains Smith had been easily manipulated into starting his own attack on the vaizard, thinking that they were actually arrancar. Despite the significant NATA deployment, thought, Jones's subterfuging had only managed to take out two other vaizard and send the others further into hiding.

That led to further, more desperate attempts, and Jones hadn't been pleased with his lack of progress. He knew that the shinigami still comprised a tremendous amount of power. His goal had been to knock out eight captain-class shinigami in Soul Society by now, and although he had managed only half of that, he couldn't wait any longer. The loss of the NATA front, the search for that twisted maniac, Q; and that pesky little Morgan meant he was losing options. Jones realized that if he waited any longer, he might lose his chance.

"Rise, Dark Denizen," he recited, igniting the incense made from the putrid guts of dead corpses. Its foul stench hung in the thick, humid air; and the three began to chant in the Ancient Tongue.

"Tsk, tsk," came a woman's voice from behind them. "You guys really are such troublemakers!"

The three of them shot up to face her, but the woman in front of them was hardly threatening. She was a shinigami with a red haori, and she was remarkably unremarkable. Average height, thin; straight, flat-chested; with simple black hair that was pulled back into a basic ponytail - she was about as plain as you could imagine. Even her eyes were a basic brown, and her face was so nondistinct that you could forget about it the moment you saw it. "You really are these 'Disciples of Kathura', aren't you?"

Roberts roared at her. "By the might of Kathura, we shall crush you, Shinigami! Kathura will rise and devour you!"

The woman sighed. "You know, it wasn't _so_ bad when you were hiding quietly in Smith's little operation," she began to explain. "All in all, Smith may have been a little misguided, but he wasn't a bad fellow - just cleansing hollows the way all of us shinigami do, I suppose, even if he didn't like us very much. But that was never your cause, was it now?"

Jenkins was already on a walkie talkie. "Trespass in the temple! I repeat, trespass in the temple!"

The shinigami pinched her forefinger to her thumb, and the walkie-talkie crumpled into a compact cube of gizmo parts. "Now where was I? Oh, yes, the part where you decided to start using chi blades to make zombies. And sending one after Sarugaki-san? You do realize I owe you for that, right? We used to be very close, you know. Poor girl," the woman mumbled to herself. "Of course, I must mention how you gave those adjuchas their own zanpakutou, planning carefully to take out one of the Gotei 13's strongest captains. Very troublesome, really."

Jones was not thrilled about the fact that he had been discovered. "Come to fight, Shinigami?" he asked cautiously.

"No, not really."

"What?" Roberts pressed. "It's not like you've come to worship with us," he sneered sarcastically.

The woman in the red haori sighed. "Yes, well, you see, that's the problem."

Jones opened his mouth to speak, but he shut it when she continued.

"It's one thing to come up with a new cult and throw around a name," she mused out loud. "Telling the world you believe in some previously unheard-of deity, stirring up trouble, making scapegoats, inciting mass panic. Calling yourselves the Disciples of Kathura and masquerading around like you were just another religion, all for your own ends... Yes; using the name Kathura - that's one thing. But its entirely another matter to actually consider invoking the summoning ritual," she explained.

Roberts, the most impulsive one of the bunch, threw a punch - only to have it stop midair as the woman's reiatsu flaired so strong that it compressed his lungs. He couldn't breathe, let alone move.

The woman lost her nonchalance. "I haven't been deployed in a hundred and twenty years - but there are some things that even the King can't ignore," the woman chastised. "And letting Kathura out of his cage is one of them."

No - no... it couldn't be - shit! **_"RUN!"_** Jones shouted, and he and Jenkins turned heel.

_"Annihilate the soul, Boukyoku no Kami Sori."_

Her scabbard slipped off its katana and fell to the floor; and inky tendrils began to seep forth from the sheath. Without warning, shadows ripped forth from the scabbard on the floor and tore the three men to bits. They slashed through arteries and veins, gouged out eyes, and invaded orifices as only a demonic, eldritch horror could dream of doing. Their muffled screams begged the arrival of Hughes; who similarly fell victim to the palpable darkness. It sawed their scalps off, tore their beating hearts from their chests, sliced off their fingernails, and evaporated the flesh on their faces. It was like the darkest nightmares of every millenia had taken shape in the form of absolute, inky, nether blackness.

She picked up the sheath and slid it over her unmoved katana, and the Oblivion Razor obeyed its owner; pulling back its tentacles of darkness into its sheath. Surveying the lack of survivors, she prepared to open a shinodake gate when the rumbling sounds of another dimensional portal caught her attention. Turning to face a set of doors she had not seen in person for over two hundred years, the haori-clad shinigami heard a voice that made her heart nearly stop. It was accompanied by a visage that she had seen only once before.

"It's about time," the sergeant said, leading a squad of Handoshi . "We've been waiting for you, you know - nuclear terrorism really is a surefire ticket, if you ask me. Anyway - no pushing, shoving, smiling, blinking, sex, drugs, rock and roll, fun, joy, praying, begging, singing, especially no singing, cussing, swearing, or..."

"...Miko-chan?"

The plain woman's simple brown eyes found themselves staring deeply into the orange irises of someone equally surprised - someone who hadn't been able to form tears in a quarter of a century. "_Great. King. Of. Hell._ Oneesan?"

-:-

Hanataro kissed his love goodbye. "I'll see you in a week, Isane-san."

"I love you," Isane smiled. She was squatting in order to be eye level with him, and she was pretty sure Kiyone was snickering behind her. "Tell Seinosuke-tousan I say hello, okay?"

"Yep!" Hanataro smiled. As per the Yamada tradition, the bride and groom were supposed to separated for a week prior to the wedding; neither would see or hear the other until Hanataro would see her come down the aisle. "I love you." He gave her another kiss, and then left the vice captain's room in the barracks. He would be staying with his father on the other side of Sereitei until the wedding.

Kiyone helped herself to some tea. "You two are so cute."

"Thanks for staying with me for the week," Isane said, grabbing a teacup in preparation to do the same. "I've gotten so used to having him here that it would be too quiet if it were just me."

"No problem. Besides, Jushiro is really busy with paperwork this week anyway. He just got back from meeting with Hallibel-sama in Siberia to discuss the results of the hollow purging in Europe. It will be days before he finishes even the rough draft of the report."

Isane took a sip of her tea. "Not to kick you out since you just got here, but don't you have a shift or something?"

"Yeah, I really should have left five minutes ago. But I wanted to be here for when Hanataro-kun headed out."

"Thanks," Isane smiled. It was nice to enjoy some time with her sister - it had been busy lately. "I still can't believe I'm getting married."

"Me neither," teased Kiyone.

"Hey!"

-:-

_About an hour later_

Rukia arrived in Soul Society with a nice, warm afterglow.

Wow.

Rukia hadn't had sex that good in a long, long time. Deep in the grassy plains of god-knows-where in Mexico, she and Ichigo had tumbled in the grass for what had to be longer than they had given each other in months. It wasn't just the warm sun and the gentle breeze, the lush grass and the privacy of being nowhere; it was so much more. It had been everything sex was when it was good. Deeply emotional, passionate; personal and welcoming and inviting and loving and oh-god-did-it-feel-good.

_So_ good.

So fucking good, pun intended _with emphasis._

She remembered Ichigo's soft kisses along her lips, neck, collar; his fingers in her hair both above and below; his caresses and his scent and his sweat and being immersed in his soul from head to toe and everything in between.

Oh dear god that was _soooo_ good.

Rukia couldn't remember the last time she felt so fused with him. Nothing had been rushed, no frenetic shuffling against the clock; nothing of the sort. Everything had been a slow, hazy, flooding buildup into stupendous crescendo of energy, collapsing all over her skin and flesh and insides until she was roiling in his every pleasure - _oh I feel so dirty just thinking about it but it was sooooo good, oh my god so good._

_That's okay,_ Sode no Shirayuki piped up. _I can't stop thinking about it either, _she chuckled.

Rukia's hand instinctively covered her dress in the area over her womb. She could almost feel the leftover sensation of wild reishi swirling around inside; she wondered if maybe what Ichigo said was true. Maybe there was truth in it; maybe the time and place mattered. Maybe the soul was open only in certain circumstances. Who knows?

But either way, the sex had been _fantastic_. Rukia could not remember a time when she thought more about the sex than its intended goal. It had been _ages_ - but her whole body began a tiny shiver in a pleasant wave of satisfaction, all just by thinking about the tickling grass and the warm sun and Ichigo, oh her dear husband that she loved and loved and loved and loved, all over and inside and all around her - oh she loved him, she loved him, it was so hard to remember how much sometimes but she loved him so much, so much-

"Hey, Lieutenant Shorty, you're spacing out."

Rukia immediately blushed, mortified to actually be thinking about sex while walking through the streets (_oh but it felt soooooo good_). "Uh-"

"Not like you to be all embarrased either, Shorty Fukutaicho," her surprisingly-blonde-this-time House companion teased.

"Nice to see you, Banzo-ue-sama-no-kimi-dono," Rukia recovered, watching Ichihime physically cringe from all of the excessively grand noble honorifics piled on top of the other.

"Ugh," Ichihime muttered, shaking off the verbiage like it was hollow slime. "If you call me that again, I might have to-"

" 'Have to' what?" Rukia taunted back. "Challenge me to a duel?"

Ichihime laughed. "I was going to say invite you for a grand fancy tea ceremony. I have no interest in being bombarded with a gazillion fireballs, thank you very much."

"You know I'm still sorry about that," Rukia chided.

"Yeah, yeah," Ichihime shrugged with a teasing smile, "we all know you just wanted cooked Banzo for dinner. It was my bad luck that you had the wrong Banzo."

Rukia chuckled. "What's up? You're not usually hanging out by the main senkai gate. Were you looking for me?"

"Actually, I was," Ichihime said. "I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk politics."

"Oh god," Rukia muttered. "What did you do now?"

"Hey!"

"Oh, c'mon, Ichihime-san, you're always getting into trouble."

"I am not!"

Rukia gave her a look.

"Hey, you're not one to talk! You're married to Mr. Troublemaker himself!"

"I guess I can't argue with that," Rukia laughed. "But politics? Wouldn't it be better to-"

"-talk with your brother? I did already," Ichihime interrupted. "But I thought I could help you."

Rukia stopped. "Me?"

"Yes, _you._"

"I don't understand," Rukia said. "You've already done plenty for me - all of those votes that-"

"-yes, but that's not real help," Ichihime dismissed. "I can say 'aye' all I want but the Middle Court veto means it's for nothing. I mean _really_ help you this time."

Rukia raised an eyebrow. "How could you-"

"-get away with it?" Ichihime cut her off, a bit baffled herself. "Wait... Kuchiki Taicho didn't talk to you about it?"

Rukia was baffled. "No, Nii-sama didn't talk to me about anything. I've been pretty busy lately; I haven't had a chance to spend any time with Nii-sama recently at all. Why? What's going on?"

Ichihime sighed. "Alright, look. I can't explain here, but here's the basics. I need you to be at the Session for Aristocracy next week."

"...But Nii-sama will be representing the House of Kuchiki. He usually does. I'm only the Deputy Head of House."

"Come anyway," Ichihime pleaded. "I'm going to be twisting a few arms to get some legislation passed. Legislation that will help you - indirectly, but it will give you options. The more pressure we have, the better. I'm even going to make sure Ganju-san is there."

"Ganju?" Rukia laughed. "You really need Ganju-san there? What, Nee-sama can't represent her House by herself? I mean, Ganju is about as influential as a toadstool."

"I need as many voting-eligible members of the Four Houses there. Yoruichi-san is even going to bring that woman you brought back from your mission, because she's got voting rights from the House of Shihoin."

"Are you _nuts! ?_" Rukia replied. "Naga-san can't take that kind of stimulation, she'll go crazy!"

"Not my call," Ichihime shrugged. "But Yoruichi-san said that Urahara-san figured out a solution to that problem, and that she's going to have to be there anyway, for other reasons."

"What in the world are you doing, Ichihime-san?" Yoruichi is going to hear it from me, Rukia thought.

Ichihime dropped her voice to a hush. "The mole," she reminded Rukia. "We need to get to Konoshima and his partner. I have no doubt that some members of the Middle Court are protecting them. It's going to be an all-out war in there, Lieutenant Shorty, and I need all the backup I can get."

Rukia sighed. She really did hate that nickname. "You know me, I'm more than happy to help." But I don't think you realize what you're trying to do, to be honest. They're going to slaughter and humiliate you.

"Good," Ichihime said. "Now on to other news, Ukitake Taicho wanted me to tell you to go meet with him."

"When did you see Ukitake-san?" Rukia asked, puzzled. They rarely had reason to see each other.

"I met with him and Shunsui-ojisama this morning, after their sparring practice."

"Same thing?"

"Yeah, they'll be there at the Session, too. But anyway, I'm in a rush and you should go - Ukitake Taicho said it was important. My afternoon is booked solid, which is why I hoped to catch you here before I have to dash off."

Rukia nodded. "Thanks, Ichihime-san."

"Anytime, Kuchiki Fukutaicho," she saluted politely - a clear tease given Ichihime's propensity to use annoying nicknames.

Rukia laughed before her fellow vice captain flashed away. The Head of Banzo House was an interesting princess indeed. Rukia only hoped she wasn't going to have her own enthusiasm bite her in the ass.

-:-

Q scrambled through the sewers, stabbing rats and cats and homeless vagrants - anything that managed to have life in it. Deep beneath the streets of New York City, he needed to charge up on the way. Eventually, he would be make his way close enough to La Guardia, where he could hop on a plane to Romania. After he figured out how to get a 3-foot katana on a plane. Okay, so maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as I thought, he grumbled.

Of course, Morgan was likely waiting for him there, too. Morgan might be a hick, but he wasn't stupid. Q needed a plan.

Stabbing yet another drug-addled deadbeat in the eye socket, Q sucked the soul into his purple-bladed zanpakutou and continued down the sewer system. You know, maybe going directly to La Guardia wasn't such a good idea. He smelled like sewer; he should buy a nice suit first. It was important to look classy when he made Morgan suck on his own balls.

Now that's a plan, he thought. Revenge is best when you do it in a three-piece suit with wingtips, served with a healthy dose of spank-your-ass godhood.

-:-

Rukia entered the captain's pavilion to find Ukitake stroking his beard, deep in thought. She still quite couldn't get used to the idea. Ukitake Jushiro with a beard? Strange. Who in the world had _that_ crazy idea?

I wonder why Kiyone doesn't make him shave it off, Rukia wondered. She thought of her oh-dear-god-its-getting-me-all-glowy-all-over-again just an hour ago and the idea of sandpaper on her thighs really didn't come across as all that pleasant.

Of course, it was only one of the many physical changes Ukitake Jushiro had undergone over the past ten years, ever since Isshin sent him some real-world antibiotics to cure Ukitake's real-world tuberculosis. Instead of the weak, sickly captain who retained his position on his experience and his bankai achievement, Ukitake Jushiro was now a physical powerhouse that did weight training every day and who could shatter a gillian with a single punch. His illness no longer restrained him, and he was firm and muscular and active. He did regular sparring with his long-time friend Captain Kyoraku, and until his untimely death, Kenpachi Zaraki, too - a little known fact. Considering that Ukitake Jushiro ran the largest division, he was always busy with administrative tasks - but Rukia knew from the occasional training session with him that his swordsmanship was roughly on par with Unohana Retsu, Rukia's current zanjutsu sensei. Which meant that he ass-handed her just as much, but Rukia was used to being humbled by captains. It was part of being a lieutenant.

"Ah, Kuchiki, you're here," he greeted her. He was one of the very, very few who called her by her unadorned family name. The only other was Hitsugaya Toshiro, who still called her that despite the close family ties. "I've been busy with this report for the Soutaicho, but I needed to speak with you, enough that I can put it aside for a moment."

The 13th division's 9th seat, Mushishi Kunda, was present and preparing tea. He had been a good friend of Kotsubaki Sentaro and frequently assisted with the paperwork. He was far from vice captain material - much farther than Kotsubaki had been - but Rukia supposed he would make an adequate 3rd seat. Not a peer of Hana Tsubaki, Hitamake Hanzo, or Madarame Ikkaku, but good enough. Rukia thought about considering the suggestion but kept it in the back of her mind for the moment. "Banzo Fukutaicho told me that you wanted to see me as soon as I came back."

"Yes," Ukitake nodded. "Please, sit down."

Rukia sat down on the floor cushion across from his desk. Ukitake was one of the few captains who preferred to work at a low-height Japanese-style work desk. Even Nii-sama preferred to sit in a chair when he had to draft up paperwork.

"As you know, we are in wartime," Ukitake began. "We thought things were over when the head of the NATA was defeated, but the recent attacks on the central infirmary show that we have not clearly achieved victory. The Gotei 13 has suffered significant losses, losses that have crushed morale and left many divisions with a lack of serious leadership. We are now short three captains, and the last time that happened, we would have been defeated if not for your husband Kurosaki to tilt the tides."

Rukia's pleasant mood dissipated as she suddenly realized what he was about to ask her.

"Kuchiki, I am nominating you for the role of 3rd division captain, to be effective immediately after Yamamoto Soutaicho's approval as a wartime promotion."

No, please no; Rukia thought. I'm not ready for this. "Ukitake-sama -"

"-I had a feeling you would object," her captain smirked, interrupting her.

Rukia looked down to her knees. "The 3rd? Does it have to be the 3rd?"

The 13th was responsible for hollow hunting in the real world. Being vice captain of the 13th was one of the major reasons that Rukia could still visit Earth so much; it was the fundamental basis that permitted her to see Ichigo so often. The companion 3rd and 8th divisions were also responsible for hollow hunting, but in Sereitei and the Rukongai, respectively. The only other divisions that had regular travel to the World of the Living were the 12th (for research) and the 10th (which was responsible for real-world investigative missions). The 2nd, 5th, 6th, and 11th were all basically combat support divisions at some level, and had occasional missions to the World of the Living; although no steady assignments. But the 3rd? The 3rd was the least mobile unit of all - it stayed entirely in Sereitei, with only a rare mission to the Dangai Precipice World. Even the 4th went to Earth more often.

She would still have the opportunity to see Ichigo and Karin regularly - they could come to Soul Society whenever their schedules permitted - but Rukia would rarely be able to see Yuzu, or Isshin, or Orihihime or Ishida or Tatsuki. Not being able to see Yuzu wasn't something that Rukia could stomach - she loved Yuzu; they were buddies. She didn't get to spend as much time with her as she would have liked, but the idea of being cut off from her sister-in-law was just too much.

"The only other open captaincies are the 2nd and the 11th. Byakuya-san would likely kill me if I put you in the 11th -" (Rukia had to agree with that one - the 11th was no place for a Grand Lady of the Four Houses, and Rukia was far too skilled in kido to be wasted on the 11th) "- and the 2nd has its own problems."

"Why? Why not the 2nd?"

Ukitake shook his head. "For one, the 2nd typically promotes from within. You have no Onmitsukido training, and I don't personally believe that you possess the right skill set for that division. Furthermore, the 2nd division has traditionally been the purview of the House of Shihoin and its retainers, the Urahara, Fon, and Omaeda families. The political complexities of appointing a Kuchiki into the House of Shihoin's domain is not something that the Gotei 13 would be wise to consider. Furthermore, the Soutaicho himself is nominating Shihoin Yoruichi to return to her post as 2nd division captain, and even if she does not want to remain there for long, it is likely that she will groom Hana San-Seki to replace her, which is within her right as the Head of Shihoin House."

Rukia restrained a sigh. "But I like the 13th division, Ukitake-sama. How are you going to manage the entire division by yourself?"

Ukitake gave her a look. "Don't pretend like you've been working for me overtime these past couple of years, Kuchiki," he teased, but the rebuke was legitimate. "I've managed to run the division just fine."

Rukia immediately lowered her head in shame. "I'm sorry."

"Don't you dare give me an apology, Lieutenant," Ukitake said lightly. "You have every right to start a family, and I would rather be viewed as supporting your endeavor wholeheartedly in silence rather than be suspected of believing you're a slacker - of which you are no such thing. And don't tell me that you didn't realize long ago that this was my position on the matter," he added with a smile.

Rukia let out a small laugh but smiled and bowed her head politely in gratitude. "Thank you again for being so accepting."

He acknowledged her thank you with a simple nod before waving his hand dismissively. "Besides, I've been without a lieutenant before."

"But the last time, you had two third seats. Now you have none."

"Oh give me a break, Kuchiki. I love Kiyone to death and I admired Kotsubaki's devotion to the division, but the two of them wasted more time squabbling than you ever did on your conjugal visits."

Rukia nearly spit up her tea at hearing that voiced aloud. She went deathly pale as she stole a glance at the blushing Mushishi, who suddenly found reason to make himself absent. "Um, excuse me," she said politely, trying to regain her composure.

Ukitake laughed. "Sorry, Kuchiki, but it's no secret. You should know that everyone in the division is praying for you."

Rukia absentmindedly put her hand over her lower abdomen, feeling it radiate warmth - pretty much the same warmth that was coming from her red, flushed cheeks.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," Ukitake apologized.

"Moving on," Rukia said bashfully, "...I-"

"This is about your badge, isn't it?"

Rukia looked askance, guiltier than sin. She thought about how that badge had saved her life - physically, spiritually, emotionally - even on her recent mission. It was practically part of her identity. Shiba Kaien's inscription was a metaphor for everything she had experienced.

"Kuchiki," he prodded.

Submitting, Rukia slowly unwound the badge's strap from her arm. Taking it off, she held it in her hands and gazed at the front - the 13th division lieutenant's insignia - and thought about her journey from Rukongai orphan to Head Lieutenant. When she finally turned the badge over, tears involuntarily dripped out of her eyes and onto it's brass surface, the directive scratched in metal by her mentor's hand. The words that had erased her self-doubt, that sparked her hope, unlocked her potential, and made her realize that she had never been a nobody. Those were powerful words in her hands right now; power she didn't want to give up.

Her captain's hand rested on her shoulder. "Kuchiki," he said softly, "what would Kaien-san have said if he found out that it was his blessing that held you back?"

Ukitake Jushiro had been witness to many of Rukia's resolutions, but there was no fire that burned brighter in her eyes than that very moment. She's just like Kaien promised, Jushiro thought. Her soul is forged from leadership like no other - just like he always said. She really did figure out how to stop looking backwards, didn't she, he mused.

Rukia carefully wrapped the armband's loose straps around her badge, as though she was wrapping a precious gift. Carefully, she handed it to her captain with a smile that appeared only skin deep. "Maybe one day," she said, trying very hard to hold her composure as a hard stoic Kuchiki (but failing miserably as the tears would not stop rolling down her chin), "maybe one day, my niece Hisako-chan will inherit this," she suggested, her voice as tempered as steel. "If you can, Ukitake-sama, then... Save this for the next Kuchiki."

Ukitake's smile was incomplete as he took the badge back from her. "I won't give it to your niece."

Rukia felt terrible that she considered asking such a thing from him. He was the captain of the 13th; he had a right to give it to whomever he wanted. She winced at herself for overstepping her bounds. "Forgive me, Ukitake-sama... Perhaps I was just being too sentimen-"

"-I think I'll save it for _your _child, Kuchiki."

Rukia's chest clenched tight; and her hands pressed against her stomach without thinking. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"I didn't lie," he added softly. "We're all praying for you."

Rukia couldn't take it anymore. She needed to get out of there before she couldn't control her sadness and gratitude and turmoil anymore. "Thank you for everything, Ukitake Taicho. I- I need to go, before - I need to go while I can still contain myself," she said, her emotion restrained behind her cold Kuchiki mask.

Ukitake Jushiro knew Kuchiki Rukia as only a captain can know his lieutenant, and he understood perfectly. "Take a breather, then come and finish up with the paperwork I left on your desk. Wrap that up and then go see the Soutaicho. I assume he will tell you to report to the 3rd division office."

Rukia stood, and she wanted to bow all the way to the floor - but she remembered Nii-sama's words from the night before her last promotion. _It is not befitting of the Pride of the Kuchiki House to bow so deeply to anyone,_ he had said, and now Rukia held herself back. With a polite bow of her head, she restrained herself as tightly as she could until she could speak without breaking down into tears. "Thank you for helping me become who I need to be," she said, failing to keep the tears from leaking out of her eyes again. "I -" Rukia choked back a sob of emotional overflow, desperately trying to maintain her professional demeanor. "I appreciate everything you have done for me."

Ukitake was skeptical. Rukia was known to hide her true feelings from just about everyone. Only Kurosaki and Ise ever got the full truth. "Even this?"

A smile peered through her tears. It was a sad, reluctant smile; but it was still a true one. "Yes, even this," she answered with a sad laugh. Rukia bowed her head graciously, wiped her tears on the sleeve of her blacker-than-midnight shihakusho, and for the last time, exited the 13th division captain's pavilion as Head Lieutenant Kuchiki Rukia.

It was only for a moment - just enough to breathe in the fresh air. Just enough time to try and recollect herself. She wondered if it was possible, but she tried, soaking in the crisp afternoon and trying to let her teary face dry in the sun.

Hand over womb, she meditated; allowing Sode no Shirayuki to stand beside her in her inner world. Deep inside the snowy meadow of her soulcore, Rukia lifted her hand; and palm-to-palm with her zanpakutou, they tried to keep their gazes looking forward. Towards the future - the only place they could go. After a few moments of deep heartfelt admiration for each other, sword and shinigami let the last chains of the past fall away, to be nothing more than a fond memory.

-:-

_Meanwhile_

Ise Nanao had never been this nervous in her entire life.

Nanao was, at heart, a strategist. Not just a strategist, but an objectively brilliant tactician who had backup plans for backup plans. In the past ten years under her command, the Kido Corps had become an extension of the Gotei 13; much like the Onmitsukido. This was a benefit to everyone, and Yamamoto Soutaicho and Ise Shosho frequently had high-level strategy meetings in which Nanao excercised her logistic expertise.

Over the past decade, the once extremely tenuous relationship between Yamamoto and Nanao had eased into comaraderie. While Nanao never expected nor wanted Yamamoto to view her as an equal, he did respect her as much as he did his other captains. The Soutaicho was surprised that he and Nanao had very similar personalities, and as a result, they worked well together.

That meant that Nanao had experience organizing as many as tens of thousands of military officers for battle. On top of that, she had been responsible for planning two of the largest and most grand weddings in Soul Society history in record time - Kuchiki Rukia & Kurosaki Ichigo, and Kuchiki Byakuya & Shiba Kuukaku. Nanao could plan anything. Her ability to chart out every open possibility and be prepared for it was unparalleled.

Which was why the current situation terrified her. There was so much unpredictability in this plan that it was nearly impossible for things to go perfectly - but she didn't have a choice. The alternatives to her tenuous strategy only led to long-term failure.

The biggest problem was that she needed to rely on people who had no idea about what was going on. People were unpredictable. There was no way to know how they would respond to a given stimuli. In this case, she was pretty sure she could predict the Ukitakes, but she wasn't sure about Kuchiki Taicho. There was a sizable risk he wouldn't follow according to plan.

Beyond that, there was a serious risk that someone could get hurt.

Nanao pulled out her cell phone and dialed. "Swan to Pelican," she signaled. "Are we ready?"

"Flamingo in place," Hisagi answered.

Nanao was nervous. "And Raven?"

"Perched," Shuuhei answered.

"Did you deal with Braids?"

"On call in Sector 89; out of the equation."

"8th division communication lines?"

"Deactivated," Shuuhei answered. "It will take them at least an hour to pull them back up, if not more."

"What about the 3rd?"

"Can't have everything," Shuuhei responded. "But their 3rd seat is still trying to make heads and tails of what to do without a captain or vice captain available. So I think we're in the clear."

"Alright, that should be fine," Nanao agreed. She knew taking out the 3rd's communication lines was not likely possible; she had no way inside. At least for the 8th, she already knew everything there was to know about the division anyway.

But now, Nanao was wondering if she hadn't beeen lying to herself. Something about Unohana-sensei's suspicions were echoing in her head, and Nanao hesitated. Maybe she hadn't been fair. Shuuhei had gone along with this - but Nanao had a sickening feeling that she was being selfish. She couldn't make him do this if he didn't want to. "Shuu, tell me the truth - are you really okay with this?"

"You're asking me this _now?_ Don't you think it's a little late?"

"...But, it's not fair if I don't ask you. Maybe... maybe I've been unfair here. You... you seem really happy."

The silence on the other end of the phone gnawed at her like you wouldn't believe. "...I am," Hisagi finally answered. "But I'm also happy that we're doing this, Nan-chan."

Nanao's stomach was twisting. "Are you sure? I- I just- I don't know. I feel bad."

"Nan-chan," Shuuhei responded soothingly. "There's no way we can back out now - besides, you aren't prepared to walk that other road."

Nanao wasn't sure. "Shuu, I- do you really believe we're doing the right thing?"

Shuuhei swallowed tightly. "We are, even though it isn't easy."

"You really don't like me anymore," Nanao said, worried. Shuu had always stood behind her, and she took it for granted sometimes. He was the type to let things slide; to be the easygoing one. Nanao knew she was the pushy, aggressive one in the relationship. He would follow her lead and let it go, even if it tore at him. He probably resented her by now. This was a lot to ask of him, a lot by several orders of magnitude.

He laughed. "C'mon, Nan-chan. Would I be deactivating your father's communication lines if I didn't like you?"

Nanao paused. "You're not just saying that? You really want to do this?"

Hisagi Shuuhei was a man of resolve, and this was no exception. "Of course I want to do this, Nan-chan - we have to do this. _You _have to do this. Hell, even _I_ feel like I have to do this by now. I know this is harder for me than it is for you, but-"

_"-shikata ga nai,"_ Nanao finished, knowing him well.

_"Shikata ga nai,"_ Shuu confirmed, feeling like they were finally in tune. "And I won't pretend that it won't hurt, Nan-chan, but what's right is right. I learned that from you - sometimes, the right thing involves a lot of hurt and suffering."

Nanao smiled all the way down deep in her ten-thousand year-old Handoshi soulcore. "You sound like you're ready for bankai," she teased.

"I fucking better be," Hisagi laughed. "I can't imagine _anything_ harder than this."

"But... but we have to do this, right? You really do want to do this?" Nanao asked, wanting one last confirmation.

"Yes," he said confidently. "Now quit pretending like you haven't made up your mind and get on with it."

She smiled again. Shuu really did understand her, however raw and complicated she really was. And even moreso, he accepted her. Yes, she really did take him for granted sometimes. She really needed to stop doing that. "Okay then... here goes."

Nanao cast a _Bakudo #26: Bending Light_ to mask herself and combined it with a reiatsu mask. Even though she was a firm believer in God, Nanao rarely ever prayed - but at the moment, she was praying to Kami every which way from Sunday that nothing would go wrong. She had planned everything as best she could.

At that thought, she laughed quietly to herself. I guess in the end, everything is still in the auspices of Fate. Man plans and God laughs, as the saying goes. _Please, Kami. Punish me for my sins some other time. Just not now. Just not now._

She placed the baby down under the tree in the abandoned Rukongai district. Taking a moment to look into the baby's bright green eyes, she smiled sadly. Nanao was honestly surprised that she felt sorrow, but now was not the time for overly emotional sentiment. She kissed the baby on the forehead. "I'm sorry, child. I wouldn't make a very good mother anyway."

Nanao opened up the small pouch she had with her. Carefully selecting the right piece, she tossed the hollow bait into the sky and flashed away. The rest was up to the Hand of Fate.

* * *

_Okay, so I hope to see a whole lot of reviews telling me about your reaction to the end of this chapter. No skimping, now; this is an ending worth talking about, c'mon! Next chapter: 'A completely different level of complicated.' **Reviews, **__you just have to tell me your reaction!_


	32. There is No Such Thing as Fairy Tales

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_"So then it's simple. I finally figured out how to beat you."_

_Really, Sister? What makes you so sure?_

_"You're just like me. You want to end the fight before it even begins - so you stack the rules against me, make it impossible, up the ante, never give a hint. All of it to despair me into thinking that I could never win," Nanao smiled, fingering the pages in the musty old tome. She had the urge to start singing her favorite aria, something Nanao tended to do when she was feeling particularly confident._

_"The answer is simple, really. You never wanted me to play fair in the first place. So I'll just cheat."_

_~Conversation between Ise Nanao and her zanpakutou Saya;  
ten years ago in "Saved For You, Kuchiki"_

* * *

_"I am only Destiny's messenger. Your fate has been declared by a Power far greater than I."_

_~ Brigadier General of the 8th Handoshi Legion, Chibaniki Saya (a past life of the soul of Ise Nanao),_  
_introducing herself to punished souls of Hell prior to savagely, mercilessly, and viciously torturing them without compassion;_  
_several thousand years ago_

* * *

_"Hey, Oniisan doesn't need to hear any sentimental crap from me, alright? He doesn't need me to rush to his side every time he gets banged up. If he really needs something from me, he already knows I'm going to help him - without even being asked."_

_~ Vice Captain of the Kido Corps, Princess Banzo Sarashina (the second of Banzo Ichihime's twenty-two children);  
talking about her quiet-but-close relationship with her older brother around two hundred years from now_

* * *

_"Oh, sure, Sako-chan can be very emotional. Yeah, I know, not like most people ever see it. But she's definitely her mother's daughter."_  
_~Shihoin Zarina about her best friend, around 45 years into the future_

* * *

_'Kuchisaki Rukigo'  
~The title that the zotokai spirit Dikita Kuranaya, Guardian of Mask and Wing, uses to address his owners in "Save Me, Kuchiki"_

* * *

**_"There are no such things as fairy tales."_**  
_~ Kuchiki Hisako, sometime far into the future_

**_"Sure there are, Sako-chan. You're just saying that because you haven't read any."_**  
_~ Shihoin Zarina, sometime equally far into the future_

**_"No - for once, I actually agree with Hisako-san. No happy ending could ever come from something that simplistic."_**  
_~ Shiba Kanchi, also present at that time far into the future_

* * *

The class-A monster arrived and the alarms went off. Kiyone was on her normal 8th division patrol check conveniently close by - only four sectors away - and was the first to arrive with her unit in hot pursuit. Calling over her hell butterfly commlink, she answered the call. "Kotetsu Fukutaicho of the 8th, target in sight. Large class A, need backup!"

The line was full of static. "Kotetsu Fukutaicho to 8th, need immediate backup in sector 37!"

Static.

_"Damnit!"_ Kiyone swore. "Kotetsu Fukutaicho to 13th, communication with 8th is down! Send 13th backup to sector 37! Class A, need high-level support! _Now!_"

Her husband, Captain Ukitake Jushiro, came through clear on the commlink as Kiyone fired off a binding spell to hold the hollow in place, watching in frustration as it broke the bonds with a roar. "13th copies - sending Kuchiki now!"

_"Hurry!"_ Kiyone shouted.

-:-

Rukia arrived on-scene to see Kiyone fighting an absolute beast. The hollow was gigantic and positively savage - the earth had been torn up as it thrashed its horns and snorted steam. Kiyone was one of the stronger vice captains, so this hollow must have been really tough if she needed backup - but the whole team appeared as if it had been badly thrown around. Shinigami were lying in heaps against stone ruins, and grunting while clutching their ribs under trees. Thankfully, nobody looked too bad - _yet._

Kiyone was still at it, attempting to engage the monstrosity of a hollow. Rukia immediately questioned its classification. There was no way this was a Class A - it had to be a Class S; its spiritual pressure was far too high. Kiyone slashed and stabbed as she dodged its talons with a rolling dive, hacking off a spiny foot - only one of many.

Whether or not it had been intended, it was a key opening Rukia took advantage of. Raising her hand and pointing her finger with a clear shot, Rukia casted her favorite kido spell: _"Bakudo #61: Six Rods of Light Prison."_ The six beams bound it in place, and with a flash faster than most could see, Rukia was behind its head and embedding Sode no Shirayuki in the monster's skull. It was almost a full five seconds before the terrifying monster vanished into a flare of dust, roaring its final breath.

Of course, the entire affair lasted less than ten seconds once she showed up; proving yet again that perhaps the head lieutenant title was no longer the role she needed to fill - but that wasn't on Rukia's mind. She was worried about the patrol.

"Kotetsu," Rukia called, rushing over. "Are you alright?'

"Yeah," Kiyone answered, rubbing her bruised elbow after sheathing Masticora. "Once that thing touched me, it sealed my abilities! I couldn't use shunpo, kido, or even go into shikai!" she explained. "Damn bastard. I hate Class A hollows. They are too big; they just roll right over units. I'd rather fight arrancar. At the very least, they have entertaining personalities."

Oooookay, Rukia thought. "...I think it was more than a Class A."

"Whatever," Kiyone shrugged, checking her uniform to make sure she didn't have any new holes. "I still hate them."

"Are you alright now?" Rukia asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I think so, now that you killed it," Kiyone replied, flaring a small orb of kido in her hand. "Just a couple cuts and scrapes. I'll be fine." Kiyone sat down on the ground and took a moment to catch her breath.

Rukia surveyed the territory. Besides Kotetsu's unit, it was quiet and barren; with stone ruins littered among random trees. Rukia, Kiyone, and her patrol unit seemed to be the only ones around. "Anyone out here? It seems deserted."

Kiyone pointed over to a small lemon tree. "Just over there. Looks like a baby. No one else, though."

Shocked beyond belief, Rukia walked slowly over to the little wrapped bundle. Carefully - tentatively, gently - she lifted it up and pulled the cloth wrapping away to see an infant's face, dozing quietly and sucking its thumb. "...Who does this baby belong to?" Rukia asked, her voice full of confusion.

"Don't know," Kiyone answered, shaking her head. "This place has been deserted for ages - no one's lived here in at least seven years. I would venture to say it's been abandoned."

Rukia's eyes begin to water. "I - I- I... I should take it to the 4th, make sure it's okay."

Kiyone nodded. "You better hurry, I don't know how long it's been there."

In a flash, Rukia was gone, and Kiyone shook her head with an incredulous smile. Praise the One True Kami forever and ever, she thought. It's incredible how Fate can answer its own cruelty with such kindness.

-:-

"Swan to Pelican," Nanao whispered into her phone, a huge grin emerging on her face as wet tears began to bead in her eyes. _"The stork has delivered."_

She could hear a laugh of relief on the other end. "It's about fucking time. If I have to use these stupid codenames any more, I'm going to lose my mind."

Nanao chuckled. "See you home." Nanao was fairly tight on her emotions most of the time, but right now she was just overflowing, so she added a rare "I love you."

She could practically see Shuuhei's beaming smile on the other end of the phone. "I love you, too."

-:-

_"Help! Someone! Anybody? Help! This baby needs immediate medical attention!"_

Rukia was stopped by a 4th division nurse she didn't recognize. The man was blockading her, and Rukia immediately realized that he must have obviously had an ego the size of Senzaikyu to think that he could tell a Kuchiki what to do. "I'm sorry, miss, but this is a military hospital. We only treat shinigami here."

Furious and livid beyond belief, Rukia grabbed him by the collar. "**_Please_** and **_thank you_**," she threatened, her eyes a blazing kaleidoscope of searing reiatsu. Any more intense than that and her gaze would have actually burned holes straight through out the back of his head.

The man's demeanor shifted into pure cowardly acquiesence. "Uh, of course, Kuchiki-sama! I'll get my superior officer right away!"

Within moments, Rukia could see 4th seat Yamada Hanataro coming over. He was on shift while Isane was off-duty this week, doing whatever it is that brides do before the wedding these days. "Kuchiki Fukutaicho! Right this way," he gestured, and Rukia followed him into a room.

Filled with anxiety, Rukia let him run a reiatsu scan and perform a physical inspection. When he went to take off the child's diaper, the two of them let out a collective gasp.

"Uh," Hanataro stuttered nervously. "Uh, let me get the captain, okay, Kuchiki Fukutaicho?"

Rukia nodded, the pit of nervous confusion and uncertainty growing in her stomach. _Please, not again. I can't lose another baby, please, no, please; please, not again. Anything but that; please._

-:-

"Taicho," Hanataro called as he knocked on her office door. "You'd better come see this."

Unohana looked up from her paperwork, blinked for a moment, and then had a gut feeling it would be better not to ask any questions. "Of course, Yamada-san. Please, lead the way."

-:-

Retsu's mind nearly exploded as wide as her almost-laughing smile when she opened the door to the isolated infimary room and saw Kuchiki Rukia with a small-yet-familiar bundle in her arms.

Praise Kami, she thought. So _that's_ what Ise-san was doing. _Unbelievable_, she chuckled to herself. Such brazen audacity. If it wasn't for the fact that Ise-san had done something so completely selfless and kind-hearted, I would be horrified at how manipulative she can be.

But I suppose sometimes, even the most seditious of talents can be used to accomplish good in the world.

-:-

What followed next was a stream of surreal experiences. Within minutes, the baby was attended to, and thus promptly diagnosed by Unohana Retsu as unharmed by the hollow attack. Rukia was amazed at how Unohana Taicho seemed to know so much from a simple physical examination, and how she had been so calm and collected about the child's unknown gender. She was so knowledgeable; like she dealt with these oddities every day of her life. Rukia was grateful.

"Unohana Sensei," Rukia asked. "Is... is there a protocol for these kinds of situations?"

Under normal circumstances, she would have told Rukia that the baby needed to go into social welfare; typically an orphan home in the Rukongai that was under shinigami supervision. It would have pained her to do so, knowing Rukia's medical history and struggle with infertility - but there was no way Rukia was going to transfer the baby to an orphanage. Retsu was pretty sure Rukia would pull out all the stops if it came down to that, including fighting to the death.

Unohana Retsu was pretty confident in her own abilities, but she doubted she could survive a skirmish against a zotokai spirit - and Retsu didn't doubt that Rukia would resort to that if needed.

If Unohana had been clueless as to the baby's origins and Nanao's machinations, she _might_ have been willing to at least mention that was the protocol. However, she had no such had practically made Retsu complicit in her little scheme. Although, to be honest, Retsu felt privileged to be a part of it. However, this was officially an area of House affairs. Unohana did not have the same options and freedom that she would have had with the average patient.

Thankfully, the captain of the 4th division was as smart as her mother, and she had a solution. She wouldn't even have to break the rules, although she might need to bend them a bit. Retsu wondered if Nanao (who could plan just about anything) had predicted that Unohana would be tasked with such a challenge; knowing that she was up for it. Still, if she was going to be complicit in Nanao's (admittedly brilliant) little game, Unohana would need her to play along to maintain the illusion of happenstance. "What do you mean, Kuchiki-san?"

"Um, uh... if the child was abandoned, who will take care of it?"

"There are numerous options," Retsu explained. "As both a captain and the head of the Medical Corps, I have the right to apply discretion. Every situation needs to be decided on a case-by-case basis." See, just bending; no breaking. Not quite as devious as Ise-san, but enough to play my part. After all, Rukia _is_ my student. It's only fair.

Rukia nodded, and slowly swallowed. "Is... is it possible -" Rukia then choked on her own throat. "Is it possible that - that maybe, that I could- that I could have it?"

Unohana gave her a look of surprise, but only because she was acting. "You would like to adopt this child?" As if she didn't already know the answer.

"Yes," Rukia said eagerly, without a moment's hesitation. "I would."

"You know that this child will not have even a _remotely_ normal life, you do realize that?"

Rukia nodded confidently. "I do," she said firmly. "I don't care."

Perfect, Unohana thought. We have our answer. "In this particular scenario, I can file a medical request that you are willing and able to adopt this child, and that because it needs special care for its pre-existing conditions, it is only appropriate that it is raised in the home of loving parents who can dedicate themselves to the cause. In your case, because your husband is a doctor, he already has the training necessary to properly monitor the child's growth and development. Obviously, I cannot assign the two of you guardianship without your husband's approval, but I should note that the circumstances require that he be present. He needs to be here to sign the affidavit in person."

Rukia nodded, a wave of relief coming over her - but it was only temporary. There was still too many ways that this could fall apart. Picking up her phone, her hands began to shake as she tried to dial Ichigo; but for an unknown reason she was unable to bear the thought of talking to him about this over the phone. She thought to dial Nii-sama instead, and then realized that was a bad idea. There was no way he was going to let her do this. Changing tactics, she called Nanao. "Nanao-san?"

"Rukia-san? Are you okay? You sound like something's wrong," Nanao asked, worried.

"No, I'm fine, really - I need an urgent favor; super-urgent. Can you go pick up Ichigo? I'm in the 4th, and I need him here right now. Like, _right now."_

Unohana interrupted her with a quiet suggestion. "We can watch the baby for you if you like," she offered.

Rukia shook her head. There was no way in any shape or form she was letting this baby out of her sight. It was hers, and she was going to keep it. She wasn't taking any chances. They would have to pry it from her cold, dead hands. Turning her attention back to the phone, she pressed her request. "Nanao-san, please. I need him here _now._ I'll explain later, I promise."

"I'm on my way out the door," came the voice from the other end of the phone.

"Thanks," Rukia swallowed nervously. She hung up the phone and looked into the baby's dazzling green eyes. The child's face was beginning to scrunch up as though it wanted to cry. Rukia shushed it and began to sway the child in her arms, clutching it closely to her chest and praying with every last ounce of her soul that this wouldn't all fall to pieces. She had her hopes and dreams let down once before; she didn't want to have to endure that crash again.

-:-

Nanao was proud to be wearing her blue haori as she darted through the senkai gate. This time, it was nice to be able to avoid all the sneaking around. Even more so, this time, she didn't have to bother with those annoying contact lenses. They were such a pain in the ass.

Coming into the hospital, she found Tatsuki easily. "Arisawa Shi-Seki," she greeted. "I am Head of the Kido Corps, Major General Ise Nanao. I am a close friend of Rukia-san's. She sent me to fetch Ichigo."

Tatsuki had heard that name before. She knew Nanao and Rukia were good friends. Although they had never met face-to-face before, the haori clearly identified her. "He's with a patient right now."

"As soon as he gets out, he needs to go to Soul Society."

"He's got a double shift - is it important? He just got back from a short personal leave; he really can't afford to take off any more time."

Nanao thought for a moment. "Rukia-san sounded like she was going to _castrate_ him if he wasn't there within half an hour. And if you know Kurosaki Taicho and Rukia-san as well as I do, you'll understand that is _not_ a random remark to simply imply the importance of urgency."

Tatsuki laughed. She understood perfectly. "Wow, that's gotta be serious. I'll pass on the message."

"I'll wait, thank you."

"Sure," Tatsuki noted. "Hey, by the way, you like remarkably similar to another shinigami that came here a couple of hours ago."

Nanao was surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah, someone from the 1st - a woman named Taki, I think? Sound familiar?"

Nanao shook her head, barely keeping herself from smiling. Wow, she's good. "No, sorry."

"Oh well, nevermind." I must be losing my marbles. This one has glasses and a haori, and the hair is totally different. I must have been imagining the resemblance. Maybe I should cut back on the coffee.

It was at that moment, Ichigo came strolling over to the nurse's station, absorbed in his clipboard until he caught sight of the unexpected guest. "Ise-san? What are you doing here?"

"Orders from your wife: get to Soul Society right now."

"Is something wrong? Are we under attack?"

"She didn't tell me, but she's at the 4th, and it sounded really urgent." That oughtta do it, Nanao figured.

"The _4th?_" Ichigo looked worried. "Tatsuki, help out Kon as best you can, okay?" She nodded with a reluctant sigh, and Ichigo popped the little green marble into his mouth. Splitting away from his body, Ichigo's black haori fluttered behind him as he charged through the gate behind Nanao.

-:-

Ichigo arrived at the central infirmary to be greeted by Captain Unohana. "Welcome, Kuroskai Taicho. Kuchiki Fukutaicho is waiting for you."

He nodded and allowed her to lead him to one of the private rooms. When they arrived, she gestured to the door. "I'll be with you in a minute. Please, go on in," she smiled, and left.

Heart pounding in his chest with worry, he opened the door and came in quietly, shutting the door behind him before he glanced to the hospital bed. He thought he would have found Rukia lying close to unconsciousness or some other horrific nightmare, but the bed was empty. Instead, Rukia was sitting apprehensively in one of the guest chairs, a bundle of blankets nestled in the crook of her arm. He didn't have to even ask - he could immediately tell exactly what it was.

"Rukia...?"

"Ichigo," she smiled carefully, tears steeled in her eyes. Ichigo could tell that she was doing everything humanly possible not to dissolve into a mess of emotion. Rukia was hiding behind her mask of noble dignity, pretending to be completely indifferent to the situation yet failing miserably. Her anxiety was obvious. It was as if she anticipated that at any moment, someone might come and snatch away the bundle from her arms, and she would be torn into pieces. Rukia was trying to pretend that she wouldn't care; that she knew she couldn't keep it, that it wasn't allowed to be hers.

Dear Kami, Ichigo blinked. A_ baby._

"...W- uh, could you -" he stammered. "Is that...?"

"A baby," Rukia confirmed, her breath coming out in shudders. It was as though she had finished a sobbing cry full of hyperventilation that she was only now finally able to restrain.

"A _baby_," Ichigo stated, completely dumbfounded. "W-w-where... where did it come from?"

"It was abandoned out in the Rukongai," Rukia explained tentatively. "I found it when I went to provide backup for Kotetsu."

Ichigo was trying to soak everything up as he looked down into the child's rich green eyes, and he brushed its sparse light brunette - possibly auburn? - hair with his rough, calloused fingers. "Is it... is it a boy or a girl?"

Rukia's face was completely unreadable, which for him was a rarity. "...We think it's a girl."

Ichigo went wide-eyed. "We _think?_"

Rukia unwrapped the baby's blanket and diaper to give Ichigo a peek. "It doesn't seem like it's a boy," Rukia noted factually. "But Unohana Taicho also said that it has no ovaries, either."

He blinked stupidly. "No ovaries? Are you sure?"

"I don't know, she said she could tell these things from a full-body reiatsu scan. I'm not the doctor in the family," she snapped. Immediately, she sighed, realizing she was wrong to snap at him. "Sorry, Ichigo. I'm... just a bit tense."

Ichigo shrugged it off and sat down next to her. "No problem," he said, distracted by the wonder and beauty of the child's eyes. "Can I... hold her?"

Rukia swallowed a lump in her throat. She didn't want to let go of it, but Ichigo deserved the opportunity as much as she did. Carefully, she gingerly placed the peaceful child into his arms, and Rukia could see that he took to her immediately. A wave of relief flooded over her as she saw him marvel at the little child.

"There's something else," Rukia noted. "Unohana Taicho says she has no vocal chords. She won't be able to cry or talk."

Ichigo looked up at his wife, his eyes conflicted. A panic begin to shake Rukia to the core as she feared in that moment that he wouldn't agree to this. On the edge of her seat, when he finally spoke, she was so jumpy that she practically leaped out of her chair. "I guess that means we'll need to learn sign language," he thought out loud.

_[Idiot,]_ Rukia signed as a smile formed on her mouth and the tears began to spill out of her eyes. [You're a shinigami, remember? You know it already,] she continued with a brief laugh, and the hiccups began as she was unable to contain herself any longer. Resting her head down on her husband's shoulder and wrapping her hand around the bundle, she cried and cried and cried and cried.

They were tears that had waited to come out for far too long. They were those same tears she shed every month, the same tears where she begged Fate every month not to let her endure another torturous month with no results. And now, here, the two of them were holding this child that they knew they both wanted more than anything in the world, but they still couldn't call it theirs. That authority was in someone else's hands. It was like walking the line of broken hopes all over again - the possibility right in front of them and yet out of their hands. But still - it was hope. And hope was worth crying over.

"Ichigo," Rukia sniffled, "this won't be easy. I know we talked about how challenging an infant can be, but this will be a _completely_ different level of complicated."

Ichigo's whole body began to twitch as he restrained his bursting laughter for fear of disturbing the baby. "Rukia, I'm a resident in Tokyo's most demanding hospital, married to a woman who lives in another dimension, and have been having sex a hundred and forty times a month while still finding time to eat, sleep, and run a military division with more paperwork than should be required for a unit with less than ten people in it. Which, by the way, I became the captain of because I had charged into Hueco Mundo to fight Espada on their own turf and then brazenly charge after and defeat the most dangerous shinigami rebel in the past ten centuries - all before I was old enough to _drive_. I _swear,_ Rukia, the word 'easy' is _not_ in my vocabulary."

Rukia's shoulders finally seemed to relax a bit. "Idiot," she smiled and kissed him on the cheek. Somehow, he always found the right thing to say when it mattered most. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Midget," he teased back. "So, I think we should give her a name, don't you think?"

She seemed to seize up for a moment. 'Her'? "...But what if it turns out to be a boy?"

Ichigo handed her the baby, seeing that Rukia would be more calm with the child in her arms. "Let's go on the assumption that it's a girl. If we don't pick one way or the other, it's not going to be good for her, nor for our own sanity. Everybody's going to ask if our new baby is a boy or a girl, and for her sake, we can't go around saying we don't know. The fewer people who know, the better - it really is a private matter that's best kept to ourselves. If she does in fact turn out to be a boy, then we'll deal with it. It's not something we can predict - we just have to do the best we can with the information we have. We'll just have to be open to the possibility that things may change, and raise her according to the path she feels most comfortable in. But until then, thinking of her as a girl is the best thing we can do for her right now. It's not like anyone who changes her diaper is going to think otherwise."

Rukia took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. "I suppose you're right," she agreed. "But I think we shouldn't pick a name that's too feminine, just in case."

Ichigo nodded. "That's a good idea," he said. "How about... Jun?"

"Knowing you, Ichigo, no child of ours could live up to the name 'Obedient'. ...How about Aki?"

"I think 'Kurosaki Aki' would sound funny," Ichigo suggested, remembering his mother's own annoyance with her rhyming name. Ichigo and Rukia had long discussed the last name arrangement. In Soul Society, the child would be a Kuchiki; on Earth, it would be Kurosaki. It wasn't ideal and would be a bit confusing, but it solved a lot of logistical problems about working around Soul Society nobility and the fact that to the Japanese government, Rukia didn't actually exist.

Rukia nodded. "What about 'Hikaru', then?"

Ichigo looked into the child's dazzling eyes. _"Radiance,"_ he whispered. "I couldn't imagine a better fit."

"Kurosaki Hikaru," Rukia whispered. "Hikaru-chan."

"Kuchiki Hikaru-chan," Ichigo agreed with a nod, and even he began to feel tears in his eyes. He couldn't believe he was finally going to be a father. Not that he would see the child as much as he would like - but at least with Soul Society aging, he would still have plenty of time during the child's formative years after he finished his residency. But that was the way it had to be, and he would make the best of it.

A soft knock came on the door, and after a moment's pause, Unohana Retsu shuffled in. "Kurosaki Taicho, Kuchiki Fukutaicho, I presume you're both in agreement? You are willing to care for this child?"

_"Yes,"_ they both said at the exact same time in the exact same eager, determined, committed voice.

A grin came to Retsu's face. They were going to make such wonderful parents. "Alright then, I've got the appropriate guardianship forms here. If you'll just sign them here, and then we can..."

-:-

Kuukaku praised Fate that she had been in the rooftop gardens at that very moment. Otherwise, there would have been absolutely no warning about the ginormous political shitstorm that was about to walk into Kuchiki Manor. With a pace of shunpo she rarely used, she was in front of her husband, adrenaline combined with anxiety. Byakuya was relaxing in his studio, practicing his calligraphy.

"Byakuya-san," she interrupted, rushing up close to him. "Rukia-san and Ichigo-kun are on their way here. _They have a baby with them._"

Kuchiki Byakuya sighed deeply, and hesitated. He did not want to have to do this, but he knew he must. "Kuukaku-san, I-"

"You _have_ to deal with this," Kuukaku said firmly. "The Council for Nobility will not let you dance around it. Are you prepared for this?"

Byakuya closed his eyes before responding. "This will not be pleasant."

"Sure as hell it won't be," she confirmed. "But you have to do what's right. We talked about it."

"Kuukaku-san... what is right is not always what is easy. You must support my decision."

"I trust you," she said, reaching out for his cheek.

"I am not worthy of your trust," he confided.

Kuukaku smiled and kissed him lovingly. "_No_ man is worthy of a woman's trust. And I'm sorry to say, Byakuya-san, that no one knows better than I - deep down, you really are just a man," she winked.

Byakuya was still. Every day, that was all he strived for - _to be a man._ On some days - such as this one - he feared he would fail.

She understood his hesitance, but she knew that there was nothing more she could say to reassure him. "We should go."

Byakuya steeled his resolve, and prayed that hopefully one day, Imoto-san would forgive him for the things he was going to have to say to her. Even if he survived this encounter, he feared it would break his soul.

-:-

Nanao was worried stiff. She did not want to be here. Well, actually, she did; but she didn't. This would have been easier if she wasn't the one moving the chess pieces. She could be witness to see all of her efforts explode right in her face.

Not to mention that extreme violence of the harshest kind could be a very real outcome. The term "exploding right in her face" could very well become much more than a metaphor.

But she was standing there, next to Rukia, with Abarai Taicho next to Ichigo, and little Hikaru-chan (What a great name! Nanao thought), quiet as always, snuggled in Rukia's bosom. Before them, Kuchiki Taicho was sitting quietly with his wife, Shiba Taicho, perched off to his left. They both looked extremely uncomfortable. For Shiba Taicho, such a display was trivial. For Kuchiki Taicho, it was monumental. Nanao practically felt squeamish - and for someone who had a deep-rooted obsession with human blood, that was saying something.

Ichigo and Rukia had requested that Nanao and Renji join them for moral support when they presented the two Heads of House with the newest member of the family. The greatest fear in everyone's mind was that Byakuya would refuse the child's inclusion into the family. After all, Rukia's adoption had been a scandal of epic proportions. No one had any idea as to how he would react.

Well, that wasn't totally true. Nanao thought that not even the grand, noble prince would be able to say no to Hikaru's sparkling emerald eyes. That didn't mean she wasn't nervous. Kuchiki Byakuya, despite his great stature, had earned a tremendous amount of scorn from the Council for Nobility. There were some things he could not risk doing for the sake of order and stability amongst nobility. Even the slightest rebellion against the Four Houses could throw Soul Society into chaos, and with the Gotei 13 still needing the to find the NATA agents inside Central 46, rocking the boat could potentially be jeopardizing many, many lives. The fate of one baby was a lot to weigh against that. Simply put, there was more than enough likelihood that the outcome would be to _nobody's_ liking.

"Nii-sama," Rukia began formally. "I wish to adopt this baby as my daughter."

Byakuya hesitated. "We have discussed the matter of adoption, Imoto-san."

"But this is different," Rukia explained patiently, restraining herself. "This baby was abandoned; nearly eaten by a hollow. It has no one else to care for it. I did not seek this out - the child fell into my lap. No one can accuse me of trying to subvert noble customs. This is the hand of Fate, I refuse to see otherwise. _Shikata ga nai_ - this is destiny. It has to be. It is the only possible truth."

His voice was calm. "A charming story that I find rather inspiring," Byakuya began, "but given your numerous attempts in the past to adopt, it would be understandable if such a story was fabricated in an attempt to gain sympathy for your plight."

_Oh fucking shit_, Nanao thought to herself. He did _not_ just say that, did he? Rukia is going to blow a hole in the ceiling.

Teeth were grinding like a half-finished sword against a mill wheel. "Kotestu Kiyone Fukutaicho was there and can attest to the _truth_," Rukia seethed.

Byakuya seemed unconvinced. "And with all due respect to Kotetsu-san, but her well-known history would imply that she owes you many favors. I am not willing to rely on her testimony alone."

"Don't give me that crap! Her entire patrol was with her!" Ichigo shouted. "You can verify the incident with at least twenty independent sources!" _You dick,_ he almost added, but held his tongue. It wouldn't help, at least not at the moment.

"Then we will indeed need to verify the circumstances," Byakuya said, his voice calm. "Regardless, Gotei 13 protocol indicates that the child should be sent to an orphan home under shinigami oversight."

"What good is our Kuchiki name if we can't even take in a baby?" Rukia fired back, tense annoyance burning through her throat. She wondered if she was talking to Nii-sama, the Father; or Kuchiki Byakuya, the captain of ten years ago who battled her husband to the death. "Is protocol the only thing you can think of?"

"This is a serious matter," Byakuya said rationally. "We live and die by the rules, Imoto-san. My position - and yours - demand this of us."

Rukia's offense could not be more evident. "Tch, the same rules that had you saying you would kill me by your own hand?" she spat. It was a horrible low blow, something she had never stabbed him with - but she was so upset she couldn't hold herself back.

_Ouch_, Nanao thought. She looked over to Abarai, who had winced just as much. This was getting ugly.

"I cannot justify those actions," Byakuya replied, his voice a touch softer than usual. Rukia could tell he was gravely hurt by that comment, and she was suddenly ashamed of herself - but not for very long. "The rules do not exist to glorify our stature, Imoto-san. They are there to preserve the strength of shinigami power. Our name is only meaningful because the rules enforce that is worth its weight in blood. Adoption is a severance in the bloodline. The Royal Guard cannot afford that - I have already suffered great admonishment; I have no need to remind you. You are a very rare exception - it is only the fact that your biological offspring with Kurosaki Ichigo will bear the bloodline through him; this is the only reason that your children will still be allowed to bear the Kuchiki name. I am sorry, but I cannot challenge the most important duty of a House's calling by giving the Kuchiki name to some random child you find in the Rukongai."

Rukia was incredibly frustrated, but she couldn't argue with this; it just wasn't possible. She had tried before and couldn't win. Rukia irrationally appealed to Kuukaku. "Nee-sama, you can't agree to this!"

Kuukaku was wary. She did not dare contradict her husband; this was hard enough for him as it was; and she couldn't imagine how much he would break if she voiced her own opinions. "Rukia-san..."

"Don't you coddle me, Nee-sama! You can't possibly tell me I should walk away from this!"

"Of course not," she conceded. "Of course I understand that you want a child, and I understand your position. But I know what you're up against, more than most. The Council is unforgiving and uncompassionate. I've been an outcast, Rukia-san. It's not something I would want you to go through. You have to understand, your own child would not drown you in censure and political outcast."

**_"HOW DARE YOU!"_** Rukia roared, with salty, stinging tears spilling down her face. " 'Your own child'? As if this child is not _mine?_ Do I not hold it in my arms? Do you think it is any less mine because she isn't my flesh and blood? _How dare you,_ Nee-sama!"

Kuukaku's face fell in sullen, guilty sadness. She had said something extraordinarily stupid. "Rukia-san, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I simply meant to say that it happened once before - maybe if you waited longer, you would-"

**_"I HAVE WAITED LONG ENOUGH!"_**

Ichigo tried to calm her down. "Rukia, the baby -"

Rukia clamped down on her spiritual pressure with a force that felt like a vortex sucking all the power out of the room. Nanao almost feared that the time-space continuum would collapse in on itself and implode right then and there. Despite this reduction in rage, the savage intensity of Rukia's anger showed no sign of abatement. "Do you think I care where the child comes from? Do you think she won't be _'my own'_ just because she came from another's womb?"

Rukia wiped her tears on the sleeve of her shihakusho. "This is not some naive fairy tale, Nee-sama," she spat bitterly. "What, are you going to ask me to believe in the fairy godmother? Oh, now I understand - you must believe that some magical foofy fairy will come along, and the celestial heavens will align in some unheard-of miracle of destiny, and _poof_, I'll suddenly find myself pregnant again - as if I haven't already wished for _that_ a thousand times, but all of a sudden only now Fate will instantly decree it to be so just because you finally got around to suggesting it. Is _that_ your idea of reality? That I should spend my life waiting around for some miniscule possibility that may or may not happen, just because such a chance exists only in mass paperback novels?

"And even if such a ludicrous thing could _ever_ happen - because, sure, maybe you're right, maybe Fate decides to play poker with my uterus for fun, sure, if that's what _really_ happens, only you and Kami know - why should this baby be worth anything _less?_ Even if I had another hundred children afterwards, should I spit Fate in the eye? Should I piss on Destiny's blessing? Does a baby need to pop out from between my legs to make it mine? Is _that_ your stupid, foolish, half-witted, fairy-tale-inspired view of the world? Well I will tell you this - yes, I will tell you this and _you better never forget it as long as you live_ - this isn't one of those goddamn dumb-ass fairy tales, this is real _fucking _life! Real life, with real people that have real problems that don't just disappear because of wishes and dreams and hopes, and definitely not because you think those very real problems should vanish in a puff of magic! This baby is _mine_ and I don't care _one damn shit_ about where it came from - I will love her and cherish her and _I_ will be her mother and she is _my_ baby - _mine,_ in _every_ possible sense of the word! And you nor anyone else is going to desecrate her pride and future by saying anything to the contrary!"

Rukia's icy stare shifted to her brother, even though her words were directed at her sister-in-law. _"How dare you,"_ she repeated. "How _dare_ you dishonor my hopes, dreams, and integrity with the petty notion that this child isn't good enough for me - how _dare_ you," Rukia flared. "How dare you dishonor me! _How **dare** you!"_

The tense silence in the room was palpably soul-crushing. It was so thick that it rang in everyone's ears like a never-ending gong of shame. Nanao hadn't heard Rukia ever use language like that, and to hear such nasty cynical sarcasm come from her was unheard of. It was _scary. _Likewise, Renji was pretty sure that if anyone said a word, the entire Kuchiki estate and everyone on it would be reduced to their composite molecules. Ichigo's spine was crawling, his body ready to pounce like a panther.

Kuukaku felt horrible. She had been unbelievably cruel without even thinking. She wanted to dig a grave, build a coffin, jump in it and bury herself. "Rukia-san, I'm sorry; I didn't mean that. I-"

Byakuya held up his hand to interrupt this exchange, or otherwise the conversation would go nowhere. "Forgive her impertinence, Imoto-san, it was not intentional. It may be a lot to ask, but let us put her offense aside for the moment. Indeed, I empathize with you - but the fact remains. Adoption amongst nobility is simply not accepted, barring the most extenuating circumstances."

Rukia's glare was colder than liquid nitrogen, but a flash of insight sparked in Ichigo's eyes and his fury was pushed aside. "Wait - what about a medical exception?" Ichigo interrupted.

Byakuya paused to raise an eyebrow. "A 'medical exception'?"

"Yes," Ichigo answered. "A medical exception. Documentation provided from Unohana Taicho - documents that say the baby will not get adequate care in an orphanage."

A pause. "And what is the alternative?" Byakuya inquired coolly, his cold, flat stare penetrating his brother-in-law.

"Adoption," Rukia answered firmly, the fight in her words equally as fierce. Her voice could have carved stone. "Two parents that will care for it. Two parents that want to give it everything it needs to properly survive. Two parents who are educated and properly qualified to take care of its unique medical needs. That is the only option."

Kuukaku fidgeted, uncomfortable with the tension in the room. The adoption debate had been played out before, but never with this level of escalation, and never with an actual baby in the room. As a mother herself, she knew that a child in your arms will drastically change one's determination. Her husband was on dangerous ground here - she had already lost her right to contribute meaningfully to the discussion through her own heart-smothering stupidity, and did not want him to do the same. "Byakuya-san..."

He seemed to ignore his wife for the moment. "Two parents? Who are these _'two'_ parents you speak of?" he retorted darkly. "Kurosaki Ichigo is not of this world. Can he provide the parenthood that you say this child needs?"

Ichigo's fierce reiatsu flared violently, but he remembered his own admonition to Rukia and quickly retracted it. "Are you questioning my devotion, Byakuya?" Under most circumstances, Rukia would have beaten the crap out of him for calling Byakuya in the familiar, but at the moment, Ichigo was pretty sure Rukia wanted to call her brother much worse things, too. _"You want to take this outside?_"

"Must you always be so brash, Kurosaki Ichigo?" Byakuya retorted. "Unohana Taicho's recommendation is a matter of medical attention, and 'attention' implies its presence."

"_Recommendation?_" Ichigo shouted at him. "Well, we have her medical _'recommendation'_ form right here - read the fucking document! That's no goddamn recommendation, that's Unohana-san's _order_, and it's got my fucking name on it! She obviously thought I could do the job, you _bastard!_"

Byakuya eyes were shut and he didn't even bother to look at it. "An 'order'? And how are you qualified to interpret such a document?"

Renji and Nanao took a step back and looked at each other. Both knew exactly what the other was thinking: each was counting down from ten. Because at zero, anyone who was in a five-mile radius was going to be roasted alive by reiatsu strong enough to flatten all of Hueco Mundo at once.

"You **_asshole!_**_"_ Ichigo shouted. _"You prissy prick of a douche-bag-sucking shithole!_ I'm a _doctor_, remember? On _Earth_, you know that place where this kind of bullshit would be considered _absurd_? It says plain as day, right here: _'I, Captain of the 4th Division Unohana Retsu, order the infant hereby known as Hikaru, to be entrusted for adoption to the exclusive care, guardianship, and sovereignty of Kuchiki Rukia and Kurosaki Ichigo, with all rights and responsibilities of parenthood and care'_ - and so on, with her personal seal right here! Is that not good enough for you, you _cock-sucking noble prick_?" he yelled, shoving the scroll in Byakuya's face.

Byakuya's eyes snapped open, seizing the document with alacrity. Before he had even taken one look at it, he smiled coyly and looked back to his wife. It was an exceptionally rare gesture, certainly one that neither Renji nor Nanao had ever seen before. It was like Kuukaku had been the only one in the room who was in on the joke. As Kuchiki Byakuya scanned the document with a smug expression, Rukia could practically see a physical crack in his mask, an unusual cockiness that was breaking through that was undoubtedly painted with relief.

When Byakuya finally spoke, his harshness was gone, and instead replaced by an unusually nonchalant tone as he rolled up the scroll and handed it back to Ichigo. "Well, then _that_ is a completely different matter. I am certainly in no position to argue with the edicts of the Gotei 13's chief medical officer. There is nothing I, nor any member of nobility, can do to contradict a direct order from one of the oldest and most respected captains under Yamamoto Soutaicho's command. Kuukaku-san, do you disagree?"

Her sly smile was all over her face. Kuukaku was beaming with pride at her husband's blatant display of mocking rebellion against those pompous, stuffy asses that ran the so-called noble government. Her hunch had been proven correct - she was right to know that she could always trust him. After all, beneath everything, he really was just a man, and not a prince. "Of _course_ not, Byakuya-san. I would never _dare_ to _dream_ of contradicting the medical direction from Unohana Retsu. Why, to do so would be to undermine the fundamental structure of the military, _don't you think, Abarai Taicho?"_

Renji grinned wider than he had in a long time. What a freakin' con artist! Renji couldn't believe his old taicho could pull such a thing off. The incredibly out-of-place smug smile on Kuchiki Byakuya's face was a clear indication that there was no way he had ever intended to send his sister home empty-handed - not even for one second. This whole time, Byakuya had been trying to find an out, an excuse; some way to justify the decision he had already made. Damn, what a freakin' con artist, Renji mused again before making his own contribution: "I completely agree. If any one of us thinks that we know better than the venerable captain of the 4th division, Unohana Retsu, then I suggest that person challenge her to a duel so that they can demonstrate their _profound_ wisdom and _overwhelming_ medical accumen."

Nanao was quick on her toes, trying to stifle her snickering at the mental image of a random noble idiot challenging Unohana Sensei to a duel. Now _this_ is the Kuchiki Byakuya I know, she thought with a smile. _Dear Kami, thank you - I can't believe this actually worked._ "Well, as a major general, I outrank Unohana Taicho and could theoretically overrule her order. However, I bear witness today that a full quorum of three captains acknowledge that to override the common-sense nature of her directive would be complete and utter stupidity. Therefore, I am left but with no choice to wholeheartedly endorse this position as essential. To disagree with a quorum of captains would completely undermine morale, and considering that I am not a member of the Gotei 13, potentially even be taken as an attempt to undermine the Soutaicho's command of his own troops."

"Then the matter is clear," Byakuya stated with an air of official indifference. "To disallow this baby's entrance into the Kuchiki and Shiba-Kurosaki families as a full-fledged member of nobility would cause the entirety of the shinigami military force to unravel into completely unbridled chaos. Therefore, even if I wished to protest this adoption out of concern for the continuity of nobility, the matter is completely out of my hands as the fate of the entire world rests on this child's adoption. To question such an exceedingly obvious conclusion would, of course, be a ludicrous disobeisance of the chain of command. Were anybody to doubt such, then-"

"Okay dear, I think you've sufficiently mocked the Council for Nobility in the process of covering your ass," Kuukaku teased. "You made your points - with impressive exaggeration for someone as stiffnecked as you, I might add - so you can proceed now."

Byakuya gave her a never-seen-before, _wickedly_ deviant smile as he closed his eyes and turned his attention to his sister, redonning his typical stoic mask of indifference. "Now that we are done training you to deal with such inane interrogations and formalities forced upon us by half-brained twits - who have nothing better to do than to practice absurdly masturbatory feats of making scandals out of nothing - I beg of you just one request."

Rukia looked at Ichigo, who was slowly pulling up his dropped jaw from the ground. Rukia was equally floored. Did Nii-sama just use the word _'masturbatory'_ in a sentence? _What. The. Fuck...?_ "Uh, er... what?"

"May I have the opportunity to hold the newest member of your family? I have been waiting _so_ patiently since the moment Kuukaku-san told me you had arrived."

When the words finally penetrated through her confusion and reality began to dawn on her, Rukia could do nothing but let laughter bubble up from somewhere deep inside her soul as the last of her nightmares dissipated into overwhelming relief, joy, and excitement. Handing Hikaru over to Byakuya, she was in tears as he wrapped his free hand around her and pulled her into a gracious hug - only the second occasion that they had ever shared one - and Rukia's floodgates opened; staining his scarf, haori, and hair with her shining tears of joy. His embrace was warm and sincere, and she felt him huddle her in just as close as he did to little Hikaru. _"Oniichan,"_ she whispered for only the second time in her life.

His response was a rare tear of his own that he let her wipe off his cheek. "Hikaru is a wonderful name," he whispered.

"You know I'm going to kill you for that," she teased quietly enough so that only he could hear.

"I am certain of it," Byakuya answered in jest. It was an unusually personal thing for him to use humor of any kind, and Rukia found herself forgetting what had transpired. Her brother's arm around her shoulders and his cheek against her forehead reminded her that although it wasn't something he generally voiced, he loved her as a sister, adopted or not. "But you needed to be prepared."

"I know," she whispered sadly back to him. "But I won't say thank you," she added with a chuckle.

Byakuya laughed - an actual, genuine laugh. "I wasn't expecting you to."

From over Byakuya's shoulder, she could see that Kuukaku was sobbing hsyterically, embracing Ichigo and apologizing in an endless stream of "sorry"s. Squeezing her brother one last time, Rukia got up and went over to forgive her Nee-sama. She was too happy to be holding on to her anger anymore.

Kuukaku separated from her nephew, and in a sobbing heap of hysterical, flooding, heaving tears, enveloped her sister-in-law in an enormous squeeze, gigantic breasts squishing everywhere. "Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, I'm so happy for you, I just want you to be happy, I of course know that she's yours, oh Rukia-chan, I'm so sorry, I-"

"It's okay," Rukia squeaked, and Kuukaku's death grip released her enough to breathe. Rukia hugged her back now that she could move, letting Kuukaku's puddles of tears soak her scarf so much that Rukia's neck was wet. "I forgive you, Nee-sama."

"Are you sure?" Kuukaku bawled, completely beside herself. "You're not just saying that?" she sniffled, before crying some more.

Rukia hugged her more tightly, and Kuukaku knew that Rukia had just chalked it up to motormouth reflex. "Oh dear god, I am so _hic_ happy for you _hic_," Kuukaku cried, hiccuping from crying so much.

Ichigo tapped Rukia on the shoulder, and she looked up into his charming, loving, handsome, _genuine_ smile - and Rukia was just so happy that she wanted to explode. Without thinking, she jumped out of Kuukaku's embrace over to her husband, diving into him and he held her around the waist high up off the ground in the most intense hug they could fathom. There were no words that could express their relief. There was so much love in that embrace that even the oldest storyteller in Soul Society would have recorded it in his greatest book of fairy tales.

Her cuddle was interrupted by a series of squeals as Kuukaku took the baby from Byakuya, for her own turn to admire the baby's amazing emerald eyes. "Hitori-san!" Kuukaku called to their majordomo, managing to finally choke back her bawling enough to get out a coherent sentence. "Bring out the very best sake, we've got reason to celebrate! In true Kuchiki fashion, make sure all the servants get some, too - only the finest for everyone! This is an occasion for all of us! _And somebody get Hisako-chan out of bed and tell her she's got a beautiful new cousin!"_

-:-

After hugs and kisses and handshakes of celebration - and a deep and satisfying hug from her precious sister Rukia - Nanao found her way into a corner of the room. She quietly took in the entire scene with a sigh of relief, off to the side; preferring to allow herself to be out of the limelight. Servants were dancing and singing and clapping and drinking, the kitchen had all kinds of pastries and delicacies streaming in, and the flow of sake was neverending. Rukia and Ichigo were proudly showing off Hikaru to every single living soul in Kuchiki Manor, gushing and crying and laughing and feeling a contented joy that they had been missing for far too long. Nanao was sorry that Shuu wasn't here to see it.

Never in her life did Nanao feel so incredibly happy; so relieved; so overjoyed. Rukia and Nanao were extremely close. It wasn't something she could put into words, but they just were. Sisters in spirit, in soul - whatever, it didn't matter. Just like little Hikaru - family is family. The definition is yours to decide.

Nanao knew what it meant to suffer. She had known ten thousand years of suffering, and her sister never deserved that kind of Hell - and Nanao was positive that Rukia had endured it in her own way. Nanao just couldn't let Rukia go through that anymore. Noble affairs complicated everything, but sometimes, you have to cheat the system. That's what sisters were for - for doing that which no one else would dare to do. Nanao knew that if it ever came down to it, Rukia would go through just as many lengths to help her out.

But maybe she already did.

Maybe getting a taste of a child in the home had opened up a piece of Nanao's soul that had laid dormant. Maybe the power of family was something that Nanao had needed to experience. It had certainly changed Shuu. Nanao could even admit that maybe, just maybe, having to take care of a baby - even for just a short time - perhaps it had changed her, too. Perhaps Nanao needed to think about things a bit more.

She found herself thinking of Papa. She did love him, despite his antics. She thought about how he had been forced to change his entire worldview of her - it hadn't been easy for him to get used to thinking of her as his daughter. But he did, and he had obviously changed because of it. He still had his antics - but they weren't the same anymore. He was serious about the important things now. Kyoraku Shunsui had become a parent, and he had changed. Rantao Kiku was slowly becoming a person who would be a part of Nanao's life, much the way that Jushiro and Kiyone had become. And maybe Shuu was right. Maybe she really did need to stop making excuses. Maybe it really was time to suck it up and talk to Yadomaru-san.

Nanao could feel the palpable wave of joy and excitement emanating from the new mother in the room, and Nanao just soaked it all in. Little Hisako-chan was singing, her unbelievably majestic voice an absolute marvel for her age (she might even rival Callas when she's older, Nanao thought), and the whole room cheered and applauded. The servants kept bringing out gifts of all kinds that they had clearly been waiting forever to deliver, and Rukia and Ichigo were inundated with diapers, bottles, formula, baby clothes, bibs, a high chair, strollers, a new crib. Even Nanao was overwhelmed a bit, and she was far from the sentimental type.

_You did it, Sister._

Nanao was surprised to hear her zanpakutou at a time like this - Saya wasn't very talkative unless they were in private. (Of course, then she couldn't shut up.) I guess I did, she thought back.

_I have to admit, you're one crazy, secretive, manipulative bitch - which is probably why I like you._

Nanao smirked. I know.

_You think you'll ever tell her? You think you'll ever let Rukia-chan know that this was all your doing?_

Psh, not in this lifetime, Nanao answered; dead serious.

_You could really do that? That's going to take a toll on you. That baby could have been yours._

Nanao flicked the hilt of her tanto hard; the equivalent of giving the red-eyed teenager inside a good smack in the ass. Immediately afterwards, though, she regretted it. Softening, she replied contemplatively: No. That baby never could have been mine. It never could have been anyone else's. That baby is, and always was, theirs from the very start. Fate declared it, and I was just the messenger.

_And you're happy with that? Being Kami's bitch?_

Nanao smiled deeply. It was, is, and always will be the greatest privilege I've ever had.

-:-

It was late when Nanao finally returned home. Hisagi was waiting for her. "Well?"

Nanao said nothing. Instead, she sauntered over and planted a nice, juicy, sensuous kiss on his mouth, making it last a few good long minutes before she slipped her hands into his sleeveless shihakusho and affectionately caressing his smooth, muscular chest. "There's only one thing missing from the happy ending," she whispered quietly.

Shuuhei was cautious. "What's that?"

Nanao kissed his throat before answering. "Your reward for being the most helpful, cooperative, trusting and patient man a conniving woman like me could ever hope for," she whispered in his ear. "You really sacrificed a lot for me, and I really took it for granted. You really went above and beyond for me, and I wasn't appreciative enough along the way. I'm sorry, I was just too wrapped up in everything."

He simply nodded, not sure where to go from here. "...It was the right thing to do."

_"Shikata ga nai,"_ Nanao whispered, knowing what he was thinking.

He chuckled. "Yes - _shikata ga nai._ Someone had to. It might as well have been us."

"I hope you don't think a little compensation would ruin your selfless altruism," Nanao teased before beginning to nibble on his ear.

"Altruism is great and all," he replied, hoisting her up by her bottom and letting her legs wrap around his waist tightly, "but I'm not one to turn down rewards." Nanao grinned when he gave her shapely buttocks a good squeeze, and then without another word, Hisagi Shuuhei carried off his very eager girlfriend to bed.

-:-

Curled up between them, little Hikaru-chan dozed happily. She had been fed, burped, bathed, changed, bundled, and otherwise completely spoiled with attention from her new mother and father (and everyone else, for that matter).

Rukia held Ichigo's hand tightly, a content smile carved into her face. It had been ages since they had been able to have a real wordless conversation like this; with glances confessing their profound appreciation for the other, their deep love and trust, their need for each other, their mutual admiration, and the importance they played in each other's life. The quiet stares, accompanied with subtle touches of hands and feet snaking around Hikaru's tiny figure, were cherished and had been missed.

For months - no, _years_ - every last moment together had either been spent copulating, or fretting about whether or not it would work this time. The only times that they had for each other were the sad disappointments that arrived like clockwork each month, when their mutual disappointment allowed them to commiserate.

But not now. Now; now was something entirely else. The joy of a new mother mixing and melding with the wonder of a new father; the splendor between them melting away the five dark years of pain and suffering. That night, which Ichigo nor Rukia would never forget, marked a new era in their marriage - a reminder of its origin; to the love that bonded them deeply, soul to soul.

They did not speak until the next morning. They didn't need to. Their embraced fingers wove tales of great love, understanding, camraderie, and happiness. It was a song of healing, of hope, of new beginnings; a song that had no notes nor tune nor lyrics nor instruments. It was the song of their souls resonating, a humming that thrummed with the promises of tomorrow.

* * *

**_[Hai - I swear by the honor of my name and the honor of my sword, I SHALL!]_**  
_~Kuchiki Hikaru, boldly swearing the Oath of Resolve (in sign language) upon promotion to lieutenant of the 13th division; sometime far into the future_

* * *

_...!_

_I would like to bet that none of you were expecting things to work out like this. I'm curious to know how many people really thought Byakuya was going to deny Rukia. It was hard to make it seem like he might actually say no. I would also like to hear how many of you found Rukia's rebuke ring true - especially based on the previous two chapters. [And before I get any head-scratching about Rukia & Toki's microsurgery scene, it should be clear that Rukia 1) obviously doesn't believe what Toki told her, and 2) is aware that no one present knows about that incident, and is using it to her advantage. And yes, I intentionally tried to misdirect all of you.] **So let's hear it for reviews!**_

_This is the end of Act II. Chapters will be coming out at a slightly slower pace because my work (yes, I actually have a real-life job) is demanding right now, but stay tuned! **Reviews, please!** You know I love the love. :) Cheers! -njx_


	33. Secrets of Slighted Pride

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

**Author's note, 1:** There is a common misconception that schizophrenia is the same as multiple personality disorder (MPD). Schizophrenia is actually a neurobiological cross-wiring in the brain that can prevent the individual from tying together thought processes in a cohesive fashion. A resultant symptom in some cases can be endless prattling that seems nonsensical as one sentence is not connected to the next. It is important to say that intelligence is not restricted - the brain can be capable of genius but incapable of forming a comprehensive means of communicating it.

This cross-wiring can be mild or it can be extremely severe, which will result in the manifestation of various symptoms. For example, in moderate-to-severe cases, it also includes cross-wiring of the auditory processing section of the brain and even the hippocampus, which result in potentially hearing voices or exciting the fear susbsystem of the brain that causes paranoid delusions. Similarly, incorrect cross-wiring can result in improper handling of emotional reactions and thus patients can appear unresponsive despite their ability to comprehend their surroundings. Secondary effects when the hippocampus is cross-wired can include neurochemical depression due to improper seratonin production.

Unlike MPD (which is caused by severe psychological trauma), schizophrenia is entirely neurobiological; and while often influenced by genes it can even be a result of severe drug abuse, since mind-altering chemicals (such as cocaine, amphetamines, or even marijuana) can damage delicate brain chemistry. So while schizophrenia may be a mental illness that is treated with psychiatric medication, it is not a psychological illness - in other words, those that suffer from it are not clinically insane (although they can potentially be incapable of taking care of themselves). Therefore, like most neurobiological illnesses, mild cases of schizophrenia can be treated relatively effectively with counseling and prescription medication (which still helps in moderate-to-severe cases).

**Author's note, 2: **'Bride Price' is basically the inverse of a dowry. A bride price is a gift that a man's family presents to a woman in order to indicate that he is sincere in his desire to marry her. In most Western societies, the term 'bride price' is unheard of (since it sounds horrifically demeaning) but is basically the man himself giving the woman a diamond engagement ring. More romantic in execution and certainly more polite in verbiage, perhaps, but not really all that different. Bride prices are still traditionally given in many places around the world where dowry is still customary (which is when the bride's family provides a financial gift to the groom in order so that he can start his home to take care of the bride, typically given after the marriage takes place).

* * *

_"Me? Man, s'all about Sarashina-san. The flowing blond hair, the blue-gray eyes, the slender hips - oh hell yeah, I'd bang her in a second."_

_"Really? I always thought her kinda pointy ears made her look elvish or something. Besides, I would have thought you were more the Hisako-san type."_

_"Well, first of all, the whole-first-cousin-thing is a bit ick. But if you put that aside, well... yeah, I mean, I guess she's pretty hot. She's got the silky black hair, that tight little ass, those dark amethyst eyes, the sultry siren's voice-"_

_"-The best rack on the planet."_

_"Yeah, totally. She's got the whole package, right? Except for one thing: the mean bitch-of-an-ice-queen is so fucking cold she'd probably taunt you about how small your dick was while you were fucking her with it."_

_"Hah hah hah! Yeah, you're probably right. I could totally see it. No wonder nobody wants to marry her."_

_~Crass chit-chat between Tancho and Pancho, sons of Shiba Ganju and triplet brothers of Kanchi; sometime in their teenage years and well out of their sister's earshot_

_"...She's crying again."_  
_~Kuchiki Byakuya to his wife, Shiba Kuukaku, about their daughter Hisako, after Shihoin Mikita (Zarina's younger brother) declined an offer for an arranged date;_  
_approximately ninety years into the future_

_"...Some people are just easily misunderstood."_  
_~Vice Captain of the Kido Corps, Banzo Sarashina, on Head Lieutenant Kuchiki Hisako;_  
_around two hundred years from now_

* * *

Momo charged into her captain's office, but no one was there. Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed Shiba Taicho's cell, but Taicho clearly didn't have her phone with her because it rang five times and went to voicemail. Frustrated, Momo looked at Kuukaku's desk to find her daily schedule.

Kuukaku was known to take long lunch breaks in the middle of the day, and today was no different; but otherwise her schedule was clear and open the whole afternoon. Momo did notice, however, that Kuukaku had met with their third seat, Hitamake Hanzo, earlier that morning.

Hanzo-kun was a close colleague of Momo. They had run the division together before Shiba-dono had been reinstated as a captain, and before that they had done many missions together over the years. Momo wouldn't quite call them friends - they didn't associate much outside of work. Hanzo was married; and because the 5th had more female seated officers than most, he tended to try and keep things professional. Still, they had long bore the bonds of side-by-side soldiers and Momo often relied on him.

Hitamake was your classic administrative shinigami - he could fight well enough, but he was a fantastic manager; he put together schedules and teams and managed all of the deskwork with ease. As a result, it was commonplace for Hanzo to meet with Shiba Taicho to discuss all the goings-on in the 5th - but it was unusual for them to have a scheduled meeting. Usually, their meetings were pretty ad-hoc.

On the other hand, I've been out and about lately, Momo thought. Who knows what the hell is going on anymore. Oh well.

Momo grabbed a gigai requisition form from a cabinet and started to fill it out, deciding that she would ask for two in case Hitamake wanted to come with her. It would be a good opportunity to catch up with things, and besides, if Momo was going to go after Q, she wanted someone who she trusted to watch her back.

"Ah, Hinamori-san, you're back!"

Momo turned to see Hector Gustavo, the 5th division 18th seat, heaving a box of papers onto Shiba Taicho's desk.

"Hi," she replied, a bit disoriented. "Say, have you seen Hitamake-san recently?"

"Oh - you didn't hear? He's meeting with the Soutaicho now."

"Huh? Why?"

He gave her a puzzled look. "Wartime promotions - Shiba Taicho just nominated him to become vice captain of the 1st," Hector explained. "Where have _you_ been?"

Momo sighed, equally happy and distressed. "I've been on a classified mission," she said - an excuse that was good enough for Hector to not bother questioning.

Hitamake had been really deserving of a badge for a long time, and the 1st was a good fit for him. It was also a good fit for them - Hanzo-kun fit the profile for 1st division bureaucracy material. On the other hand, Momo felt like it was just another piece of her world being pulled away. Nothing major this time - but she wasn't prepared for so much change all at once.

So much for having Hanzo-kun join me, she muttered to herself. He's not even my subordinate officer anymore.

Momo finished filling out the gigai requisition form, signed her name, and left it on her captain's desk. She should have stopped by the 1st to wish Hanzo a congratulations, but she was in a foul mood now and didn't want to see Hanzo-kun like that; she owed him better. "Hector-san - "

"Just Hector, thanks," he chuckled.

_Oh just shut the fuck up already, I don't care,_ Momo thought. "Hector - I left the captain a note. I have to go, it's urgent - please pass a note on to Hitamake-san that -"

"Hitamake _Fukutaicho_," Hector said proudly.

_Bite me._ "Yes, pass a note on to Hitamake Fukutaicho that I wish him congratulations and that I hope to celebrate with him soon."

"Sure thing, Hinamori-san."

-:-

"Is she here?"

"Yes, Ryogi-dono is here to see you, Ichihime-sama. I have also received word that the House of Kuchiki is celebrating a new child."

Now _that_ was news. "What? Since when was Shiba-dono even expecting?"

Makina shook her head. "Actually, it seems that Kuchiki Rukia-dono has adopted a new infant, Ichihime-sama."

_"What?"_ How the hell did she get away with _that_?

"I am not aware of the details yet, Ichihime-sama; I have only just received a telephone call from Hitori-majordomo."

"...Shit," Ichihime swore. Makina looked at her funny, and Ichihime hated that. "Hey now, don't you be holding back on me with that can't-talk-to-my-master-like-that-shit," she cautioned. "You're my friend. Out with it."

"...I was under the impression that you endorsed Kuchiki-dono's desire to adopt a child."

"Oh! Of course I do!" Ichihime backtracked, and then sighed. "I'm very happy for her; I need to visit and give the new mom a good slap on the back with congratulations - but the timing sort of sucks. Not that it matters!" she quickly added. "Anytime to have a baby is a good time, don't get me wrong!"

"...But it will only agitate matters in the Session next week," Makina correctly guessed.

"Yeah," Ichihime muttered. "Still, I'll deal. Lieutenant Shorty deserves it, and I'm all for it." I mean, hell, I already built a maple bassinet for them, engraved it with the Kurosaki and Kuchiki family names superimposed over each other; the works. I've been waiting to give it to them for ages.

"...But waiting a week would have been nice, Ichihime-sama," Makina sparkled slyly.

"Alright, alright," Ichihime sighed. "But really. You know I'm voting 'aye' on that one, no questions asked."

"Of course," Makina smiled. "Are you ready for Ryogi-dono, Ichihime-sama?"

Ichihime fidgeted with her kimono, trying to make sure she looked appropriate for her station. Shiji was tucked into her black laquered sheath across her back, and her hair was braided. "You tell me."

"You look ready, Ichihime-sama."

Ichihime gave her a slanted look for a moment, but Makina just giggled. "Okay, okay, fine - send her in." Oh dear ancestors, I hope I can do this.

_Just don't call her a douche bag, Hime-sama._

Oh, you know, thanks for the reminder, Shiji. Because I always thought messy political negotiations began with the typical greeting of 'Welcome to my House, Douche-Bag-san!'

_Anytime, Hime-sama. Glad I could help._

Shut yer-

_-pie hole; yeah yeah, Hime-sama, I get it, I get it._

Unaware of Ichihime's mental conversation with her zanpakutou, Hoshimura Makina bowed and left the Ichihime's Head of House office on the Banzo estate. Shortly thereafter, Ryogi Shiki entered, although not in her shinigami uniform. She was wearing a light blue yukata with a modest obi, although her zanpakutou (a small Western-style combat knife with a red handle) was visible inside the obi knot. Ryogi Shiki was a thin, attractive woman; with a heart-shaped face ending in a crisp chin with comely eyes. Despite this, much like Ichihime she did not have a very feminine personality; yet she was known to remain in lady's formalwear. The Ryogi Family was known for its pride in its own nobility, and she was no exception. They held important sway in the Middle Court. Probably because most knew that since they were wealthy, they were thus harder to bribe than some of the other, more loud-mouthed Middle Court nobles; and hence their opinion was likley more objective than most. Not that anyone was ever really objective in these things, but that was Ichihime's theory, anyway.

"Banzo-no-kimi," Ryogi bowed, although the tone of her voice was not particularly polite. It suggested an indifference on her part.

"Ryogi-dono," Ichihime greeted her. "I will not waste your time. Have a seat."

"I prefer to stand," Shiki replied coldly.

Ichihime took it in stride. "I understand you are... dissatisfied with the fact that your nomination has not yet been approved."

Shiki's eyes narrowed. "It is understandable, considering that our third seat is barely holding the division together."

"Promotion to your first seated position is a very significant achievement," Ichihime commented. "The personal benefits that come with an 18th seat are very rewarding when compared to your current unseated officer benefits. Especially for someone from nobility, who is accustomed to... more favorable conditions in the military."

Ryogi was nonplussed. "Your point?"

"Rumor has it that you will quickly find Kuchiki Rukia-dono as your new 3rd division captain. As a Head of House, it is already clear that I will inherit the Head Lieutenant position from her. Ignoring the fact that she and I are already friendly, I will likely be spending a lot of time with your new captain as she transitions the responsibilities associated with the Head Lieutenant title."

Shiki folded her arms in a clearly confrontational matter. "A fascinating set of details, Banzo-no-kimi. I suppose that you are expecting favors in return for a quick review of my promotion status?"

_Gotcha._ "No, I seek no favor in return. That would smack of bribery, wouldn't it? You wouldn't suggest that I would do such a thing, would you?"

Ryogi Shiki was no fool. She quickly realized that she had been baited. "No, I would never even think of such slander," she answered darkly.

"It is merely an overture of good will to the Ryogi Family," Ichihime continued. "I know that you have worked hard to earn your nomination, and I value shinigami who go above and beyond to do their duty," she explained in a highly informational manner. "I'm sure that the Ryogi family would love to be known for its service to the greater good of the Gotei 13."

Shiki's eyes were bitter with tension. "We serve the shinigami cause well enough."

Ichihime's smile smoothed out into a confident grin. Shiki did not miss the overture. "The House of Banzo and the Ryogi Family have historically had little interaction in the Council for Nobility. There is no reason that a potential partnership should not be formed. Allies for a just cause, so you might say. A bridge between the Upper and Middle Courts could benefit us all, not just the two of us."

Shiki was unfazed. "Then you should be speaking to my father. I am not worthy to make such arrangements with a member of the Upper Noble Families, and even less so a Head of House," she deflected. "I'm sure my father would be more than interested in the ascenscion to such lofty realms of authority," Ryogi replied with clear disdain for Ichihime's suggestion.

"Yes, but he is so... _quaint_," Ichihime intoned, gears turning quickly. I hate that I'm about to say this, but I have no choice. I knew it was going to come to this. "Besides, I am sure it is to your personal benefit for us to be more direct with each other. It would be much easier to convince anyone who objects to your pending promotion that your history of... _challenges_ is no serious concern."

Shiki's face went stone cold. Things were turning _personal._

Ryogi Shiki's shinigami record was crammed with mental instability charges that had never quite gone away: fourteen years ago she had suffered from severe depression and had murderous urges due to her clinically mild schizophrenia. She had never acted upon them, and was treated with severe mood inhibitors and antipsychotics. Many, many months of counseling and the right combination of drugs had restored her to a mostly normal state. Shiki still suffered from it - schizophrenia was a lifelong battle - but she was acutely aware of the boundaries of her condition, and had long ago learned how to manage it. Currently, her only regularly recurring symptom was that she tended to hear imaginary wind chimes, which by now she just filtered out as noise. All things considered, for a schizophrenic, she was remarkably stable.

Her successful recovery had been a critical contributor to her first promotion eligibility twelve years ago - all of her latent talent and skill had been hidden behind her disability. After the incident fourteen years ago, a proper diagnosis of mild schizophrenia had given Shiki her life back. Medication, counseling and even simple awareness that she wasn't crazy meant that she could free herself from her condition's destabilizing effects with proper treatment. With the help she finally needed, it was easy for her to get her life back on track. Shiki was finally able to commit herself. It showed. She quickly excelled.

But once mental illness was publicized, it was something that destroyed your life. People were incredibly prejudiced against the mentally ill. So many things became impossible - securing a job, finding a life partner - it was devastating. Most people never thought of schizophrenia or depression in the same way they saw chronic pneumonia or persistent bronchitis. Both can mess you up, and both can be fixed with drugs - but that wasn't how most people looked at it. Ryogi Shiki knew that problem firsthand. Time after time, she had been turned down for one arranged marriage after another. She would have even been okay with making overtures to members of the Lower Court at this point, but her father forbid it; and even if he didn't, Shiki knew that many families of the Lower Court wouldn't even consider it despite the tempting dowry and social status upgrade of marrying into the Middle Court.

The prejudice didn't end there. She was one of the best unseated officers in any shinigami division - she had achieved shikai (a mark of accomplishment for most unseated officers) and was a lightning-fast hollow hunter who could handle sizable swarms singlehandedly. But none of it had mattered. She was still stuck in the unseated officer ranks. She had been denied a promotion under Gin Ichimaru twice, and Ayasegawa Yumichika had rejected her nomination _seven times_ over the past decade. It was an affront to the Ryogi Family in general, but to her in particular. Shiki had worked so hard and gotten so little out of it - even bribes had been ineffective. Now, someone was sticking it to her for a trade. It irked her, but it was the first time she could do anything about it. Shiki wasn't quick to rush to judgement; she was much smarter than that.

Ichihime seized on Shiki's contemplation. "You can see that I'm taking a personal interest in advancing your well-being, Ryogi-san. You don't have to live in the same kind of isolation after your promotion. No doubt, you probably believe that I am holding it over your head - but I assure you that I am not. I am simply encouraging your independence and your right to be recognized for your excellence. Do not mistake my sincerity."

Shiki didn't like the implication that Banzo might have thought she was any less deserving of a new position - that without Banzo's help her promotion wouldn't be approved. However, she considered what was on the table. This was not a trivial issue for Shiki. A lot of her problems could vanish with the right influence in the right places, problems that in all fairness should have vanished long ago. "Are you challenging my competence? Questioning my ability to satisfy the demands of a seated officer? That I will never make it without your backroom assistance?" Shiki asked sourly. "Do not assume I take such accusations lightly."

"Exactly the contrary. I am challenging nothing but your inertia," Ichihime responded firmly. "I do not question your competence; not with one royal hair in my braid. I judge all shiningami by their skills and devotion to the cause, whether they are born in Zaraki or on the Spirit King's lap - and I have no intention of judging you based on your personal struggles. My record, my reputation, and my command as lieutenant - no, in fact, my honor as a shinigami and a Head of House - is based on a policy of fairness, for each individual to be judged on merit and merit alone. By my understanding, you have over ten years of uncompensated merit; so the only logical conclusion is that you are either fit or unfit to be a seated officer. It is simply a continuation of this principle: if you have proven your leadership qualities, then you deserve a promotion. Such leadership skills are of grand importance, and in relationship to that, I merely imply that with said skills, you could easily convince your father to simply be an open-minded participant in the Session for Aristocracy, no more and no less. Such a decision on your part would only be a reflection of a character worthy of such a nomination. Now I know you have the character, so it is merely in your hands to decide. The final test of leadership awaits - do you wish to swim among the school of like-minded fish, or do you have what it takes to be swifter, wiser, sharper? You tell me, Ryogi Shiki - do I sound like I am a cat asking tit-for-tat with a cornered mouse, or I am treating you like the promising shinigami that I know you are?"

Shiki hesitated. There had to be a catch. She had expected much greater arm-twisting than this. From best she could tell, Banzo was putting petty politics aside and giving her a real chance to show her worth - with a very real opportunity to prove it at the upcoming legislative session. It was unexpected and admittedly refreshing to see someone throwing aside the bullshit for a change. For Shiki, this was simply hers to lose if she didn't do the same. "So that is all you ask of me?"

"I ask of you nothing, other than to stand on your own pride and do what you believe is right," Ichihime answered. Returning to a more subtle approach for fear of being too bombastic, she added: "Or perhaps I merely state that I am sure your father's well-recognized wisdom in the Middle Court will be backed by his sharp intellect, capable of debating legislation on its merit rather than the opinions of his less intelligent and more obstinate peers. It is only fair to assume that his daughter would have the motivation to encourage him to continue with such measured deliberation."

Shiki folded her arms again, although this time, it was more of an acquiescence than a confrontation. This was a far better outcome than anything she could have imagined, and while shrewd, Head of House Banzo had treated her like a shinigami noble rather than a basket case. This was a woman she could see herself supporting, assuming that there wasn't a one-time play involved - but Shiki could do much worse than a one-time bargain with a heavy-duty power broker. "I suppose I can inform my father that the Banzo House wished to praise his intelligence and accumen for decision-making," she said with a cunning grin.

The implications and hidden messages were understood by both women. "Excellent," Ichihime said, closing the topic of conversation. "I hope that your promotion application is reviewed swiftly with proper attention and consideration. Now, Ryogi-san, would you care for some tea?"

At that moment, Makina entered. "Please excuse me, Ichihime-sama, but Nikayui-dono is here to see you."

Adame? What is he doing here right now? Now is a _really_ bad time. "Please tell Adame-san I will be with him shortly."

"It is not Adame-dono, Ichihime-sama. His father, Tesho-dono, is here to see you."

Uh oh, Ichihime thought. Turning back to Shiki, Ichihime apologized. "Forgive me for not having the opportunity to drink tea with you, but I must attend to other matters."

Shiki smirked. "You had promised not to waste my time, Banzo-no-kimi, and tea is unnecessary. We have discussed the important matters already, and it is evident to all that great haste is required. I shall take leave. I am more than eager to indicate to my father that the House of Banzo is preparing legislation that would be of great interest to him - and that he would be sorely remiss if he neglected to see the opportunities he could have in aiding its craft."

That had dangerous, undiscussed implications. "Then you must inform him that you have an open invitation to drink tea with me after your promotion," Ichihime suggested carefully, balancing Shiki's implications with her own threat.

Shiki laughed. Banzo was sharp. "Assuming Kuchiki-dono deems my application worthy, I am sure you and I will have much to discuss. Perhaps such an allegiance is very wise indeed," the kimono-clad woman admitted genially, accepting that she had already gotten a good deal and that her last-minute push was probably too much. "I wish you good day, Banzo-no-kimi."

"Good day, Ryogi-dono," Ichihime nodded politely with a friendly-but-business-like grin, and Shiki's cold-but-agreeable smile remained as she turned haughtily and left.

Ichihime breathed a sigh of relief as Shiki exited her office. Well, that went better than I expected. Not by much, but still.

_You clearly have a latent talent for this,_ Shiji commented.

Shiki-san is just another very misunderstood woman, Ichihime shrugged. She's someone I can relate to.

_You're wiser than you look, you know._

Thanks, smart-ass.

_Anytime, Hime-sama._

Ichihime was about to give Shiji some more sass, but quickly put on her game face as Makina entered. She lead Nikayui Tesho in and awaited further instruction.

Externally, he was an extremely gruff man; with a countenance that implied he was callous and insensitive. Tesho had a square brick of a chin with a round, dome-like forehead that polished off his cubic jaw; as though his face was pounded out of an anvil. His demeanor consistently displayed an aura of uncaring indifference to the world, with a neverending scowl and cold, lifeless eyes that looked like he didn't give a shit about his own balls, much less about you.

However, ever since Ichihime had made overtures to the Nikayui family, she had learned rather quickly that he was as far from that depiction as could possibly be. Nikayui Tesho was actually a very kind-hearted man, extremely humble and had always been concerned for others. He employed hundreds of Rukongai citizens in his factory, and treated them relatively well - he even gave them access to a paid doctor on the facilities and served a hot lunch to his employees as part of their compensation, with enough food for them to bring back to their families. He loved children and enjoyed playing with them - he was known to carry a bag of candies and distribute them to any child who would wish him good morning when he came to the market - and everything he did seemed to deny his outer appearance. Ichihime could only assume that he did not have an easy life raising seven boys all on his own, away from his wife Shirani in the Royal Guard.

"Banzo-no-kimi," he bowed respectfully.

"Nikayui-dono," she returned. "To what do I owe this honor of your visit?"

"The honor is mine," he replied sincerely, "to be considered worthy to meet with the Head of the Royal House of Banzo. I apologize for arriving unannounced; I beg your pardon as it is highly inconsiderate."

"Not at all, not at all. Let us dispense with such formalities," Ichihime instructed. "Please, Nikayui-dono, have a seat. Hoshimura-san, please bring us tea of Nikayui-dono's choice, and a bottle of Higurashi sake, please."

"Wakarimashita, Banzo-sama," Makina bowed, understanding that the circumstances called for more formality than she and Ichihime-sama normally maintained. She took his preference (simple black tea) and departed.

"Nikayui-dono, I can only hope that you are not here to inform me that ill has fallen Adame-san."

He did not smile, but his tone was amicable. "No, although since we have dispensed with formalities, I must confess that ill has fallen upon _me._"

"That is troubling," Ichihime said seriously. "Of what is it that ails you?"

Tesho sighed. "This will be a matter of deep discomfort, Banzo-no-kimi, as the financial implications of courtship are not usually discussed with the party directly involved. However, given the circumstances of your noble family and the current pace of said beginnings, I am forced to bring Your Grace such less-than-romantic, potentially even tactless concerns into our discussion."

Ichihime was smart enough to navigate his implications correctly. From his perspective, talking with Ichihime's late father would have been far easier - but she was the only one left in her House, and Tesho had no choice. "I understand, Nikayui-dono, that you do not intend any matter of offense regarding your remarks, but that this is a matter of business; and business is business. Business is and always has been entirely independent of personal feelings. I can assure you that I am capable of not allowing one scope of concerns to cross another."

His constant sour scowl remained, but his tone was admiring. "You are deductive and straightforward, Banzo-no-kimi. Your direct approach to such a sensitive topic is refreshing. If I may say this without slight to your honor, you are clearly much wiser than your years or appearance might suggest."

_See? I told you so._

Shut it, Shiji. I'm busy.

Ichihime smiled warmly. "I believe we have already dispensed with formalities, have we not? I accept your compliment with gracious gratitude. Now please, what is this ill that you so obviously troubles you?"

Tesho sighed. "The matters at hand are of many concerns, but the foremost and most contentious is a matter of bride price."

What?

What did he just say?

_I think he said 'bride price', Hime-sama._

Yes, I know what he said, you little yellow-bellied oni - but that means...

_Are you dense? Did you really think it was so impossible?_

Of course I realized it was _possible_, Shiji. But I mean, c'mon - someone actually wants to marry me. This is _epic!_

Shiji could only shake his head inside his little cave of a world. His master was a real trip sometimes. _Yes, Hime-sama. More epic than Homer's Odysseus. Even more epic than baking pancakes._

Oh, shut yer-

_-shutting, shutting,_ Shiji grumbled amusingly.

Ichihime ignored Shiji and refocused her attention now that she had gone cross-eyed for a moment. "Pardon me, Nikayui-dono, but did you just say 'bride price'?"

He nodded, but said nothing further as Makina came in with the tea and sake. A quick nod from Ichihime told her that would be all, and she left accordingly. Both of them sipped tea, and then Ichihime poured them saucers of sake, although neither partook of it as they were still on their tea.

Once they were alone again, Tesho continued. "I am under the impression that Your Grace and Adame-kun have discussed the possibility of entering into marriage. Please forgive me if I have misunderstood; I do not wish to interfere."

Ichihime took a sip of her tea and set down her mug before answering. "No, of course not. It was certainly discussed."

Tesho remained externally gruff as he sipped his own tea. "The decision is not my concern; it is not my place to tell a Head of House whether I approve or disapprove, regardless of my opinion. Should that decision be reached in the affirmative, however, then the bride price is a matter of discussion. I would prefer that such details be discussed before objections arise that are too late to correct."

Ichihime had to tread very carefully. There was potential for gross offense in nearly anything she could say. "Then we must proceed with said discussion," she hedged.

Tesho sighed again after another sip of tea. "We retain our status in the Upper Noble Families due to our bloodlines and our bloodlines alone. We are not significant landowners in Sereitei; even the factory is on land leased from the Naga Family in the Middle Court. It is arguable that were we not among the Upper Noble Families by blood, we would reside on the tail of the Middle Court and would be no better than retainers to the other Upper Families."

She thought hard on how to coax him to a question. "Your implication could not be that the House of Banzo is degrading itself by such a marriage." Let's see how he takes that.

He reached for the sake and took a polite moment to help himself to it. Ichihime poured him another with a subtle smirk, understanding that he might need some more. Eventually, the man with the stony exterior continued. "I cannot deny that such a thing may be said if I am incapable of providing an adequate gift upon betrothal."

Ichihime threw caution to the wind on a hunch that he was baiting it out of her. "Then let me ask you this, Nikayui-dono - is this about you, or is this about me? For those are two very different discussions."

His tone was hopeful but his face was still his typical sour presentation. "Perhaps both, if I may be honest."

"May I ask a question of a most personal nature, Nikayui-dono?"

"Tesho," he corrected, implying that she may proceed.

"Tesho-san, are you a man who is not beneath secrets of slighted pride?"

"...I shall answer thusly: I have fashioned my life out of what is practical rather than what is ideal."

"Then we are of one mind, Tesho-san. Please pardon me for a moment." Ichihime then rapped on her desk twice.

Makina appeared in the doorway seconds afterwards. "Yes, Banzo-sama?"

"Please bring me Uryam."

Makina bowed, and departed.

Ichihime removed Shiji and his scabbard from behind her and placed it on the table. "What do you think of my handiwork, Tesho-san?"

His skeptical scowl remained but his tone was pleasantly inquisitive. "You made this tantao case?"

"I did," she confirmed.

"I did not know you were a skilled craftsman."

"It is perhaps an unusual hobby for a woman - and a noble one at that - but as your son has probably told you by now, I tend to defy convention."

His eyebrows raised in admitted acknowledgement, but he displayed no other gesture.

"Please, do not feel a need to restrain your critique," she prodded.

"...It is a very good piece of craftsmanship," he replied earnestly. "It is... not necessarily from the best type of wood, nor the best cut of this type... and I probably would have used an ebony stain rather than a pitch lacquer. But for someone such as yourself, who does not do this professionally, it is worthy of respect and admiration. Albeit simple, it appears to be well constructed - the seams are clearly buffed and I can see you used a custom sanding pattern to make the striations even, an indication of your fine attention to detail. It is no doubt that despite any minor comments I may have to offer, it is certainly appropriate for even the most formal of occasions."

"Your praise is graciously received," Ichihime thanked him, "as I am aware that no matter my talent, yours far exceeds mine."

"...I would not-"

"Please, now, do not prevent me from crediting you appropriately; you are a professional and I a mere hobbyist. Please take my sincere compliment; there is no need to be self-effacingly humble for no reason."

He tilted his head politely in a simple gesture of gratitude. It was then that Makina returned, with two house servants struggling under the weight of an enormous lidded box. They carefully teetered over and placed it on the table (the box making a marvelous thud as it landed on the desk). Quickly bowing to the two nobles in the room, all three members of the staff then knew to make their leave.

"Tell me, Tesho-san, have you ever seen Uryam?"

"...No, at least not that I am aware."

The cunning smile on Ichihime's face was wider than the heavens. "Then you are in vast company, Tesho-san. Allow me to show you."

Ichihime removed the lid. Tesho noticed that the box's four walls were not attached to each other, and Ichihime folder the four walls down to reveal its contents. On a small base sat a gargantuan storm-gray pearl with a mesmerizing black sheen, as impossible as that sounds - it was beyond proper description; you had to see it yourself to understand. It was god-knows-how-many carats and flawless; polished lustrously (in a physics-defying way) and clearly a remarkable nonpareil. In fact, the term 'gargantuan' does not give an adequate depiction of its astonishing size. "Do you know what this is?" Ichihime asked, pointing to the nearly two-foot-wide pearl.

"...I am not sure of what your question intends to ask," Tesho replied carefully.

Ichihime's expression was uninterpretable. "This was the dowry that the House of Shihoin gave my father."

Tesho's voice was weary and disappointed. "I am sorry to say that I can provide you with no such treasure."

"You absolutely can, Nikayui Tesho-dono, for you and your Family are known to be master craftsmen. This pearl has no use to me. It sits on a shelf and impresses no one but the servants that see it. It is, in my opinion, no more valuable than a chunk of rock under the sands of Hueco Mundo. I honestly ascribe it no value - no, it is of _less_ than nothing; I disdain it for it represents lavish and filthy excess of the most unnecessary type, of which you should know I despise nothing more. But you and your family can create something of great importance to me out of it."

"...I do not know anyone that could take such a flawless treasure and improve upon its value," Tesho said carefully.

"Nonsense," Ichihime replied. "You must know of Grand Lady Kuchiki Rukia-dono's zanpakutou, do you not?"

That got a laugh out of Tesho, the first change to his facial expression all evening. "Zanpakutou are my livelihood," he replied. "To not know of the most beautiful zanpakutou ever known would be a gross negligence of my profession."

"Then you must certainly know of the illustrious scabbard her brother, Head of House Kuchiki Byakuya-dono, gifted her."

Tesho's eyes went wide as he began to piece the puzzle together, as insane as that seemed. "...I know of it."

"Then we have a solution that suits both of us," Ichihime said craftily. "You can take this oversized bauble, this worthless trinket of excess posh, and apply your Family's unique skill to craft me a scabbard for my own zanpakuou," she said, unsheathing Shiji to indicate that her tanto was indeed small enough to use this as a material. "Such a utilitarian artifact of your master craft would be a priceless treasure worthy of several diamond and platinum rings so commonly given today - much more valuable than this useless rock torn from some forsaken sea. And none could claim that it was not a gift of your own origin," she added, knowing full well that she wouldn't be able to simply pass him money under the table. "I can assure you that it would be a matter of my great personal pride to wear such an exceedingly personal gift - in fact, I cannot imagine any gift of any kind that I would cherish with every fiber of my soul, I am sure of it; and I say that without exaggeration. Furthermore, I can only assume it would bring your family great honor; perhaps alleviating other concerns that you have not yet mentioned."

Tesho was speechless. He took another sip of sake - a long one - before speaking. "...I- forgive me for questioning Your Grace, but are you honestly suggesting that I apply my humble craftsmanship and dare to cut such a flawless gem?"

With reflexes as fast as lightning, Shiji was in motion as Ichihime set forth a swift slice at the pearl's edge, scratching the surface with a visible slash before returning her zanpakutou to its sheath. Had Tesho blinked, he would have missed it. "Now it is flawed," she retorted whimsically. "Only your deep expertise and extraordinary skill could return its value, with such further posturing so forth and so on, or must I actually continue with such unnecessary prattle?" Ichihime grinned, allowing some sass to escape for a moment. "Or is there anything else I must do to convince you of my sincere desire to see this hunk of oyster spit turned into something I would actually appreciate?

Tesho's eyes were still bugging out of his head. He stumbled and stuttered before taking another long sip of sake. Eventually, with a deep breath that tried to return him from such shock, he found words. "...If that is truly a gift that Your Grace would desire, then... then I suppose it would be incumbent upon me to accept it as an amenable agreement on the subject."

"It is not incumbent upon you, Tesho-san," Ichihime frowned. "I am asking you if you agree. I do not wish to dictate to you what you should accept."

Tesho took another look at the pearl's open wound, but this time, his eyes gazed upon it with a longing she would not have expected to see. "...I must admit, with perhaps a relapse in my manners, that I am truly a man driven by my craft; and that the opportunity to produce something from such exquisite material is a lifelong dream."

"Then you are sincere when you say that you accept such an arrangement?"

Tesho took another deep breath of disbelief. "...If this would supply Your Grace with an item worthy of betrothal, then my only option is to confess that I am indeed most interested."

"Wonderful," Ichihime confirmed. "Assuming, of course, that your son and I reach a decision that would necessitate such an arrangement," she added with a cheeky grin.

Tesho cracked a smile at that one. "Yes, of course. It is I who listen to the decisions of a Head of House, after all; but if may, I would like to politely comment that I can only hope to have reason to continue our negotiations."

She raised her own saucer of sake to him. "To successful business matters," she proposed.

His thin smile remained, but this type she could see his eyes smile with it. "Yes, to successful business matters," he said knowingly, and they both drank.

* * *

_**Reviews, please!** __Bonus points to those of you who recognize Ryogi Shiki is the central character in Kara no Kyoukai ~ Garden of Sinners. _FYI, in case you were curious, I chose the name 'Uryam' simply because it is a Hebrew construct that means "Light of the Sea". Also, writing this chapter's intro passage - and writing for adolescent boys in general - ugh. It's painful. Men are idiots.

_One reviewer, Krythan Warrior, suggested that I post a family tree or something to help readers keep track of all the interconnected relationships in this piece and the preceeding trilogy. It's a good idea (even for myself!) so I am presenting the "circle of connections" below to help people remember how everyone is interrelated (because it really is quite intertwined! ;D). _

_**Next chapter:** Break out your drawl, it's Momo & Morgan time!_

* * *

Rukia's Family Connections:  
Ichigo, and by extension Karin, Yuzu, and Isshin  
Byakuya, and by extension Kuukaku and Hisako  
Ginrei and his wife Shihoin Kaori (Yoruichi's aunt, the sister of Yoruichi's father Shihoin Tamanaka)  
Nanao [practically a sister], and by extension Hisagi (who is also a fellow student of Unohana)  
Hikaru (adopted child)

Rukia's Other Connections:  
Komamura & Unohana (swordsmanship mentors, who are married), and by extension their son Kitsune  
Ukitake & Kiyone (from the 13th, who are married)  
Orihime & Ishida (Nakama, who are engaged)  
Renji (Nakama)  
Hitsugaya Toshiro (Karin's longtime boyfriend), and presumably his future son, Hitsugaya Makahiro (yet to be confirmed from Karin)  
Momo (not _so_ close anymore, but Momo was a bridesmaid at Rukia's wedding; also as Toshiro's sister)  
Ichihime (friend, fellow noble, and lieutenant of Rukia's brother Byakuya)  
Yoruichi & Urahara (friends and fellow nobles), and by extension Zarina and her younger brothers (of which one is known to be named Mikita)

Nanao's Family Connections:  
Shunsui, and thus loosely by extension Rantao, Ukitake and Kiyone (who also succeeded her as 8th division lieutenant)  
Hisagi, and by extension his mother "Lady Merangue" Merongaka  
Rukia (practically a sister), and by extension Ichigo and Hikaru  
Lisa (who enrolled her in Shinou Academy and was a mother figure to Nanao in her early years)

Nanao's Other Connections:  
Unohana (longtime kido mentor)  
Fuwu (current lieutenant of the Kido Corps)  
Ichihime (Former 5th seat of the 8th division, Nanao nominated her for vice captain of the 6th)  
Isane (longtime friend)  
Momo (fellow kido expert, but not particularly close)  
Byakuya & Kuukaku (planned two weddings with them)  
Renji (Hisagi's captain)  
Hajimata Percival & Shiba-Hikifune Miyako (fellow Handoshi)

Ichihime's Family Connections:  
Banzo Tanabi (deceased father) and Shihoin Yohana (deceased mother and Yoruichi's sister, daughter of Shihoin Tamanaka)  
Banzo Jirobu (grandfather in the Royal Guard, was married to late Kyoraku Suzuki)  
Kyoraku Suzuki (grandmother, Shunsui's older sister, widow of Hikifune Hatami and mother of Hikifune Kirio and Hikifune Miyako)  
Kyoraku Shunsui (great uncle on her father's side)  
Shihoin Yoruichi (aunt on her mother's side), and by extension Urahara, Zarina, Mikita & co.  
Shihoin Tamanaka (deceased grandfather, Yoruichi and Yohana's father)  
Shihoin Kaori (great aunt, Tamanaka's sister) and by extension her husband Kuchiki Ginrei  
Hikifune Kirio & Miyako (aunts, half-sisters of Ichihime's father Tanabi, who mutually insisted on being called stepsiblings instead)  
Nanao (cousin through Shunsui, and senpai in the Gotei 13)  
Nikayui Adame (assumed fiance) and by extension his father Tesho and six unnamed brothers and their respective families  
Sarashina (future daughter, the second of 22) and her older brother

Ichihime's Other Connections:  
Byakuya (her captain and fellow noble) and by extension Kuukaku and Hisako  
Renji (former boyfriend of many years)  
Kurosaki Isshin (former fiance who broke his engagement three weeks before the wedding more than fifty years ago)  
Yachiru (comrade)  
Rukia (friend and fellow noble)

Kuukaku's Family Connections:  
Byakuya, and by extension Rukia  
Isshin (brother), and by extension Ichigo, Karin and Yuzu  
Ganju (brother), his wife Omaeda Ina (cousin of 2nd VC Omaeda Marechiyo)  
Kaien (deceased brother) and his wife Miyako  
Hisako (daughter)  
Hikaru (through sister-in-law Rukia)  
Tancho, Pancho and Kanchi (triplet nephews and niece from Ganju)

Kuukaku's Other Connections:  
Yoruichi (friend and fellow noble)  
Ichihime (Byakuya's VC and fellow noble)  
Momo (her VC)  
Hitamake Hanzo (her 3rd seat for the moment)

Momo's Connections:  
Toshiro (brother) and by extension Karin and future nephew Makahiro  
Rangiku (friend)  
Isane (friend)  
Rukia (assumed future sister-in-law of her brother Toshiro)  
Hitamake Hanzo (3rd seat for the moment and longtime comrade)

Isane's Connections:  
Yamada Hanataro (fiance) and by extension his father Seinosuke  
Kiyone and by extension her husband Ukitake Unohana (captain)  
Iemura (3rd seat)  
Nanao (longtime friend) Momo (friend)  
Yamada Uchii (assumed future son, as of yet unconfirmed)

Next chapter, I will include a listing of the current timeline's Gotei 13 heads, and the known future timeline's Gotei 13 heads; since I'm sure that will be helpful, too. :)


	34. Seeds of Naivety

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note:** I have been experiencing the famous error type 2 recently that has made posting difficult. Sorry for the delay._

* * *

_"Of course my lieutenant has achieved shikai. It's a prerequisite, isn't it?_

_"No, I don't know what its actual name is; no one but Hikaru-dono knows that answer. But it is irrelevant because it is unpronouncable. It is a name that does not exist within the domain of spoken language. Its title can only be expressed in the unique language of motion; possibly only sign language can formulate its very essence. To us who can't really hold on to such abstractions, well, we just call it the Eternal Silence. In any case, believe me, when you see Hikaru-dono's shikai, you'll know it._

_"Why? Oh, c'mon, what a dumb question; geez. It isn't obvious? Because the enemies that do see it meet silence that is undoubtedly eternal."_

_~13th division captain, Kotetsu Kiyone, shortly after the promotion of Kuchiki Hikaru (who studied the Unohanan Art of the Sword under Kenpachi Hisagi) as her vice captain some time far into the future_

_"You know, the Gotei 13 is overrun with women these days, and I still can't find a date."_  
_~9th division vice captain, Abarai Renji; about two hundred years from now_

_"Heh. You're far too old for them anyway."_  
_~11th division captain, Kenpachi Hisagi Shuuhei, in response_

* * *

Nanao gazed at Yoruichi with the most exasperated expression she could muster. When the Head of House had entered her Kido Corps office, Nanao would have sooner expected Mission Impossible rather than Actually Impossible. "Are you serious? You want me to do _what_?"

"C'mon now, Ise-san," Yoruichi said lazily. "You're the smartest one we've got. You could be able to figure out something that would work, right?"

"But- but- but that's _insane_! You can't possibly pass real law like this!"

"Eh, been doing it for centuries now," Yoruichi shrugged.

"Shihoin-dono, but this- this is _impossible_. You can't possibly believe that I could produce _anything_ that would fly under the conditions you just described."

"Why not?"

"_Why not! ?_ Because that's not a set of legislative procedures, that's a whirling dervish of drunk frenetic djinns being asked to create the Taj Mahal out of gum, popsicle sticks, and nitroglycerin while a stampede of raging buffalo pass by with a troop of yapping dogs on their backs!"

Yoruichi frowned. "It's not _that_ bad."

Nanao stared at her open-mouthed in disbelief.

"Okay, so maybe it is," Yoruichi admitted. "But you have to try, right? There's gotta be some way that you could craft the perfect bill and figure out how we could get it passed. C'mon, you're the only one bright enough to make this work."

"The improbable, perhaps - but the impossible is still the impossible!"

"Look, just try, okay? You're the best chance we've got."

Nanao thought about it, and then decided the price had to be high. _Way_ high. "Only if you take Fuwu along on your next Secret Ops mission."

"No, you _can't_!" Yoruichi gasped.

"No Fuwu, no path through a gyrating hurricane of twirling hallucinatory baboons with chainguns," Nanao insisted.

"Fine," Yoruichi grumbled. "But don't blame me if I bring him back alive."

"Whatever, just make sure he's out of my hair, and I'll do my best."

-:-

Hinamori looked up at the "No Smoking" sign posted at the entrance to La Guardia International Airport in New York City.

Aw, damnit.

-:-

Ichigo gave Rukia a goodbye kiss - a nice, long, passionate one that was probably just on the cusp of inappropriate for the main senkai gate plaza - with Hikaru in arms. Orihime, who was in good spirits but still quite weak, was in a wheelchair with Ishida behind them. It was time to go home and celebrate - Tessai (who had been running Urahara Shoten ever since Urahara returned to Soul Society ten years ago) had a special gigai for Hikaru waiting. Ichigo was disappointed that Rukia wasn't coming with them now, but she would come in later to celebrate their new child with Ichigo's family. Karin was already in Karakura with Isshin, and Tatsuki was invited to join the party; Yuzu was on her way in by train and was bringing tons of food from the restaurant she worked at. She was going to cook up a storm, and it was an occasion that no one would want to miss.

Rukia separated herself from her husband with a blush and shooed him away. "Go on," she said. "I'll be fine."

"Don't take too long," Ichigo teased. "Everybody's going to want to see you."

"Don't worry," she said. "I just need to go put in the paperwork at the 1st, so that I can get some time off for a new baby. I'll be out soon."

"Hey," he said quietly, and help up a single palm to her. His other was holding Hikaru, but Rukia understood. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

A warm, soft, sentimental smile spread on Rukia's face. "It has."

She took his open palm in her two hands - a one-handed variation of the open-heart circles they used to do - and spoke softly. "I had given up hope," she confessed, temporarily forgetting that they weren't alone. Right now, there was only Ichigo. "I never thought we would ever become parents."

Ichigo nodded. "I know. I felt the same way sometimes."

Rukia began to tear again. "I am so happy," she squeaked.

"Me too," he smiled.

She sniffled and let go. "Go on," she prodded. "I love you."

Ichigo kissed her forehead and hugged her one last time, and he, his daughter, and his friends went home.

-:-

Momo was _pissed_. She was running over an hour late because she had to leave the airport to go find a pharmacy. She had bought two boxes of the biggest-size nicotine patches she could buy without a prescription, along with a pack of cigarettes. It was ridiculously expensive, but she didn't care. Momo had already decided she was going to expense it all anyway.

Taking one last smoke outside the airport, she slapped a nicotine patch onto her upper arm. Thinking about it for a moment, she slapped another one on the other arm, too. That should at least keep the cravings at bay for a while.

She turned her cell phone off and looked herself over one more time. She was pleasantly surprised about the jeans - she had originally assumed that they would be frustratingly uncomfortable, but they were actually fantastic. They didn't bother her at all. She thought about keeping them after she was done with the gigai.

Deciding another smoke was a good idea, she lit up her last cigarette, huffed and puffed through it quickly, and chucked it in the street when she was done. Fuck ashtrays, she thought. Who gives a shit anymore. I have bigger things to worry about.

-:-

Byakuya was nominally surprised to see Kuzaku Mikoto enter the 6th division offices. "Kuzaku-san," he said, not bothering with the -dono suffix. The Kuzaku family was a retainer house for the Kuchiki family; this was more than expected. Especially coming from Byakuya.

"Kuchiki-san," Kuzaku replied coldly. The fact that he refrained from using -taicho, -sama, -no-kimi, or even -dono was a fairly clear potshot.

"What brings a civilian noble to the 6th division?" Byakuya asked, put off by the lack of proper respect.

"A request from your vice captain," Kuzaku explained. "The whims of her youth obviously meet your disapproval if you know nothing of it," he added.

"I have never found any reason to disapprove of any action my vice captain has taken," Byakuya shot back coldly, "and her independence is a virtue."

"Is that so, Kuchiki-dono?" Kuzaku remarked disapprovingly. "Perhaps because she is nothing more than your tool?"

"You are an idiot and a fool to speak about me without having the ability to sense my reiatsu behind you, Kuzaku-san," Ichihime sneered. He had walked right past her and hadn't even noticed her leaning against the wall next to the doorframe. What a prick.

He turned to face her. "Such pleasure I have to see the young Head of House," he greeted sarcastically.

"Such disgust I have to meet such an old disgrace," she spat back.

"Don't try my patience, Banzo-san. You can't order me around like I'm some member of your squad."

"By _my_ measure, Kuzaku-san, you are not even worthy of wiping the bottom of my unseated officers' _dogs_," Ichihime replied coolly. "This isn't the place for grandstanding, Kuzaku-san. You don't walk into the office of two Heads of House and think you will get away with such flippancy."

"Tch," he snorted. "Some Head of House you are. Nothing like your father was."

Ichihime kept herself from exploding in anger and instead channeled her temper into seething scorn. _"A distinction I am all too eager to draw,"_ she retorted behind clenched teeth.

"As if I care," Kuzaku shot back. "You have no influence on anything or anyone, certainly not me. Don't believe I am going to grovel before you just because you wish to throw around your name. Come and talk to me when you have a haori draped around your shoulders, and then maybe I might humor you."

"Yet you've come at my beck and call," Ichihime retorted as she stood up straight, and the twisted angry scowl morphed into a sadistic grin. "Once a dog, still a dog, I see."

"I know what you're up to," Kuzaku spat, trying to gain back some hold on the conversation. "You wish to abolish the legislative rights of the Middle Court. You and your incestuous pile of Four Houses pompadours wish to quash the voice of the people!"

"As if you give a shit about democracy," Ichihime laughed. "You would rather suck urine straight out of a horse than give any kind of voting rights to the overall population of Soul Society."

"Commoners are of no consequence," he answered defensively. "They are uneducated and stupid, and even more crass and course than a recently appointed Head of House I know," he snuck in with a snarl. "They have no capacity to make proper decisions like the rest of us nobles. Which, you would of course _know_ if you were not so young and naive."

"Is that so?" Ichihime smiled darkly, ignoring his blatant attempts to irk her. "Naive? Coming from someone who is waited on hand and foot and has opted to forego proving his worth in the Gotei 13, that is a laughable criticism at best."

"I have no patience for the addled ravings of a novice," he stated definitively. Kuzaku Mikoto stuck his nose in the air. "We are done here."

"No we're not," Ichihime said firmly. "Sit down, Kuzaku-san. We need to have a talk."

_"We are done here,"_ he replied firmly, staring her down.

_"No. We're. Not,"_ she answered equally insistent. "Now _sit down_ and shut your trap before I have to order the Kasumi-Ouji family to call in your debt."

Mikoto stepped back. "How dare you intimate-"

"Spare me your drivel, you pigheaded glop of excrement from a sick-boweled elephant," Ichihime interrupted. "Your gambling debts are no secret."

"You-"

"It's a shame that you spent all your money on not-so-nameless whores," Ichihime steamrolled him. "I wonder what the Kasumi-Ouji family would say if they found out you spent your last tax collection at the brothel in sector 23."

"If-"

_"I said **sit down** and **shut up!**"_ Ichihime said, diving into roundhouse sweep to knock his legs out from under him. He fell to the floor in a thudded klunk, and Ichihime, swift on her toes, was already standing with her foot over his throat. "Now, then, I believe you were apologizing for your hideous lack of respect, yes?"

She eased up on his foot enough for him to elicit a squeaked "Yes."

"Excellent," she continued, grabbing a chair and jamming it into his hand so that he couldn't try anything funny. Between her foot on his throat and her leaning on the chair on top of his hand, he was in, to understate the situation, excruciating discomfort.

"Let's begin this conversation all over again, Mikoto-kun," Ichihime said condescendingly, using his personal name and a demeaning suffix just to rub it in. "I am going to propose new legislation at the Session for Aristocracy next week. And you," she said, tightening the foot around his neck by thrusting it up towards his chin, pulling his head back uncomfortably, "are going to behave like it is the most _brilliant_ bill of law you have ever laid eyes upon. Because if it is not," she threatened menacingly, "you will have neither eyes nor masculinity to be laid upon, am I clear?"

Purple as a beet, Kuzaku Mikoto nodded. With a gravity-defying yank, Ichihime seized his shirt and hurled him up and out the door of their office onto his face, much like she would chuck a sack of rotten potatoes. "And for the record, Mikoto-kun - the Kasumi-Ouji Family is well known for its hiring of former Onmitsukido into its private security forces. I would hate to think how many different ways you could be poisoned with the most insidious symptoms if your debtors find out you've been squandering away the contents of your next payment. So I think it would be wise for everyone to keep their mouths shut about our little discussion, don't you think?"

With that, she slammed the door behind him.

"...That was rather direct," Byakuya noted without any indication of judgement.

She looked at him with an annoyed frown. "What? Do you disagree with my approach?"

"No," he answered, pausing to take a sip of his tea. "I would say it was rather deft. I have, on many occasion, imagined doing the same."

Ichihime laughed. "Kuchiki Taicho, you're a riot."

His only response was a subtle upturn of a smirk.

-:-

Morgan was waiting inside the empty airport bar-and-grill, sipping a glass of water and enjoying the quiet. When he saw Hinamori, though, he was honestly quite surprised. He had expected her to come as a shinigami, but she was clearly in a faux body.

And what a costume it was. Her chosen attire was not what he would have expected, either. He had heard from Watson's secondhand opinion that Momo was once a sweet girl, but he also knew from the details of her file and his initial meeting with her that she may have not been nearly as rosy as she used to be. Still, he wondered if maybe she was trying to overcompensate a bit.

Momo was wearing skin-tight jeans - _way_ tighter than anything he would have thought she would wear. They clung to her calves, thighs, and hips like they were painted on; so much so that he could see the curvature of her pelvis; a sweet vision to behold. It was a lot more erotic than he would have pinned on her, and it also didn't jive one bit with the ass-kicking tough girl aura she was carrying - black Doc Martens, nicotine patches on each arm and brown leather open-finger gloves with metal studs, just to go for the full-fledged badass look. Keeping with that theme, her hair was completely loose and hung like she hadn't even bothered to wash it for the past month. Morgan thought the plain black spandex camisole as her only top was an interesting choice to finish the ensemble. It was cut low enough to prevent a masculine appearance; and even though she was too flat for cleavage, she was at the very least clearly very perky. Morgan supposed the tight camisole did accentuate her narrow waist, but the camisole gave off a more militant aura than a revealing one. He assumed that it was intentional.

Yeah, overcompensating. Sexy as Satan's spawn, he admitted, but still overcompensating.

Momo entered the bar-and-grill with a scowl. It was empty save for Morgan (who was sitting at a table) and some restaurant staff. Right outside the entrance, a pair of men snacked on a bag a french fries, but save for them, the place was deserted. It was a slow travel day, but usually food places in an airport - especially a New York City airport - had more people than this. Momo was instantly leery.

He wasn't wearing his nondescript men-in-black getup. This time, he was wearing a well-tailored navy blue suit with a baby-blue button down shirt and dress shoes. "Heys now, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am. Goods ta see ya again! Really, I mean' it. Cumma sit down and join an' ol' sinner like me fer a bite ta eat."

Hinamori tentatively pulled out the chair next to him at the small square table and sat down. "I still don't trust you."

"Heh heh," he chuckled. "That's fine, Ma'am. One o' these days maybes, buts I's in no rush."

Momo hesitated. She had _thought_ that she had a plan, but now she was realizing that she was simply unprepared. Momo was so eager to find Q that she didn't think about the fact that she had put herself at Morgan's mercy. For all she knew, she could have walked right into a trap without even thinking.

_You stupid dumb amateur baby,_ Tobiume spat at her. _You're an impulsive idiot. I hate you. You can't do anything right! Now we're stuck here wasting time while Q gets away!_

That's enough, Momo answered defeatedly. Let's figure this out.

_Suit yourself, you whore._

That's _enough_, Tobiume.

_Hmph. Don't screw up._

"Where's Johnson?" Momo asked suspiciously.

"Hangin' out ova' in JFK," he answered cheerily. "Prob-ibb-lee 'njoyin' summa vodka wit' cranberry. Says, lets awder some foood, now, eh?"

She looked at him sideways. "...You paying?"

"Ha ha! Like'I says befoa, I likes yoos, yoos got sass. Sherr, dinna's on me."

"Fine then," she agreed disagreeably.

Morgan chuckled at her distant behavior and signalled for a waittress.

"What'll it be, sir?"

"I's be havin' the beeh-battuhed chick'n wit' a side a good-ol' greasy pile-a french fries. An' cause they says yoos needs a veh-jeh-tuh-buhl at ev'ry meal, make sure yoos git me a nice big blob o' ketchup on the side, now."

The waitress laughed. "Anything else?"

"I's be taking a rye whisky by tha glass."

"And you, Miss?"

That's _'Ms.'_, you bitch. "What's the most expensive thing on the menu?"

"Uh... that would be the grilled lobster."

"I'll take two."

Morgan smiled, amused; but the waitress wasn't really too keen on the idea. "Um, that's a lot of f-"

He interrupted the skeptical server. "Don't worry 'bout it, ma'am. This charmin' n' hungry company o' mine o'er heeer just ain' used ta a gentulmun treetin' her ta a nice meal. Shes kinna haves whatseveh shes be askin' fo', anna howeveh much o' it shes wants. Anna whatsevvas leftovuh, yoos just let me worry 'bout it now, alright?"

The waitress held her tongue. "Alright, two grilled lobsters, then. What would you like to drink?"

"Fuzzy navel, tall."

"Sure - can I see some ID, please?"

Momo wished she wasn't in a gigai right now so that her look actually _could_ kill. "Are you seriously carding me?" I'm at least three times as old you, _bitch._

The waitress was insistent. "New York has a drinking age of 21, miss. Can I please see some ID?"

Pissed off, Momo retrieved the (obviously counterfeit) Korean passport from her back pocket, which said she was 22. The waitress didn't even look at it - instead, she took it back behind the counter and swiped it through a digital scanner.

After a moment, she returned. "I'm sorry, Miss - do you have any other ID?"

_Fuck you and your little dog too._ "Is there a problem?" Momo asked, agitated enough that she was seriously considering berating the woman at the top of her lungs.

"No," Morgan interrupted. "Theh's no problem, sees?" he said, pulling out a one-hundred dollar bill from his pocket and placing it on the table. Turning to the waitress, he mused out loud. "Says now, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am, do yoos knows thats tha wuhrd 'tips' is ak-choo-ally an ak-ro-nimm? Itt stan's fo', _'To Inn-shuwhe Prompt Surr-viss'_, anna it used ta be given befo' the suh-vuh would go anna get them summ grub, now. Sos I be sayin' like dis, mizz," Morgan added, placing another four hundreds on the table, "I's jus' be a-payin' fo' ah meal up front, an' yoos gonna bring this pretty lady o'er heer her drink, ain't that so?"

The waitress, rather wide-eyed, took the cash from the table. "That ID will do just fine," she said simply, and rushed off 'to insure prompt service' as expected.

Momo looked at Morgan sourly. "What the hell do you think this is, a _date_? You think I came here for dinner and a drink?"

He laughed. "Sorry's, Ma'am, but I's jus' say thats I'm prob-ibb-lee much too old fer yer tastes. I's jus' bein' polite."

"Yeah, well I still don't trust you worth shit," she retorted in a severe whisper. "You snuck around with your agents in places where your noses don't belong. You got your hands on my file without anyone's consent, and now you know everything about me. I know jack shit about you and as far as I'm concerned, _you can kiss my ass!"_

"Whoa's now," Morgan chuckled. "I's be sensin' that yoos a touch angry."

_"No shit!"_

"'Course yoos are," Morgan answered with his lax, laidback, never-disappearing smile. "I's woulds be's mads toos if I's was yoos."

"Who are you, Morgan? Tell me!"

He shrugged. "I's Morgan. Same man yoos met last time."

"The man I met last time was a fake."

He laughed and shrugged her off dismissively. "Tha man yoos met last time ain't no diff'rent than I's am now."

The waitress interrupted Momo's escalating temper with the drinks and then quickly left.

Morgan tried to calm things down with his easygoing charisma. "Look, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am. I's be more than happy to answer your questions, yoos jus' gotta ask an' I's be-a answerin'."

"Who are you, Morgan? What's your real name?"

He laughed again. "That _is_ my name. Theodore Augustus Morgan the Fourth. But ain't no one call me anythin' but Morgan since my college days. E'en my ex-wife called me Morgan," he laughed. "I don't think she e'en knew my name was Ted, ta be honest."

She pressed on. "Why did you join the NATA? For money? Is that why you do this? So you can throw your fancy cash around in front of women and make yourself look like some fancy big shot to some scrubby waitress in an airport bar?"

"Me? I's already says thats tha last time," he said casually, seemingly taking no offense from anything she had accused him of. "S'cause I wanna make sure peeples ain't becomin' hollow food. Me's be appreciatin' thats the shinigami gots them their hands busy sometimes, anna they could use some help keepin' things quiet 'til theys can show up anna do their a-sendin' thingamabob," he replied calmly and without worry. "Coulda sworn I told y'all 'bout it last time, though," he added pointedly.

"_Bullshit,_ Morgan. That's a bunch of _bullshit_. You're either doing it for the money or for some other reason. Don't you fucking lie to me or so help me, I'll pop out of this body right now and blow you to fucking hell with a fireball bigger than your fucking house. You tell me the truth!"

Morgan sighed, his smile fading for the first time. "Looks, now, Ma'am, I ain't gonna lie an' tells yoos thats tha money ain't nice. It is. Buts yoos gonna holds thats a-ginst me? Come now, this heer's Noo Yawk City. Yoos gots firemen and firewomen an' brave po-leese officuhs an' ee-mer-jun-see medikal wuhkuhs anna even fancy doctors with big salaries - theys all works hahd an' tries to make a livin' from what theys be doing, but theys ain't riskin' their lives er scrambling this ways an' thats 'cause theys wants to pays thair bills off the backs o' sufferin' peeples. Shurr, I's bein' paid lots o' money - lots, I ain't ashamed ta say it - to risk my scrawny lil' neck ta go fight an' kill monstas that most othas can't see, an' to make sures I gots incentives not to be a-sayin' what I ain't supposed to be sayin'. But thats don't needs ta diminish the fact that I's _proud_ o' whats I do; anna thats I's be doin' it b'cause I thinks thats if I's can see 'em, then its my ree-spons-ibb-ill-ih-tee to pro-tekt othas since theys can't be protectin' themselves."

"Bullshit," Momo replied, but not with nearly as much conviction this time around.

Now Morgan seemed mildly offended. "No's, I's bein' serious, Ma'am. Yoos know how many hospitals I've defended from hollow 'ttacks in tha past fifteen o' so yeehs? Yoos a shinigami, yoos gots ta know how hospitals bein' the principle feedin' grounds fo' hollows, seein' as how theys gots lots o' souls in pree-care-ee-uss kondishins, either jus' dead or dyin' or even jus' hard to keep on livin'. Wells, I's be proud to say that I's been shootin' hollows in thair heads now fo' a-nice long time, and I's saved hundreds if not thousan's o' peeple's lives - an' I likes yoos an' yo's sass, I really do, and yoos kin be a-disrespectin' me's all yoos want 'cuz I knows I does yoos wrong so yoos gots ev'ry right, but I's gonna kindly ask you not to disrespect the lives I wuhk so hahd to protect, 'cause theys tha same peeple yoos tryin' ta save frum dem hollows, too. Yoos also get paid fer savin' 'em, I a-be a-believin', anna I ask yoos to be respectin' them at tha very least 'cause theys be-a leanin' on yer help, toos, e'en if theys don't know it."

Momo was silenced, and it hung in the air until the food came out. She felt genuinely guilty - Morgan was being a nice guy, and Momo was being hypocritical. She knew to take rebuke when she had been soundly wrong. At the moment, she had no reason to believe Morgan wasn't telling her the truth - but more importantly, a small part of her _wanted_ it to be the truth. A small part of her wanted to believe that maybe there was good still out there in the world.

_You let Tobiume dominate you,_ Kyouka Suigetsu commented, seizing the opening window into Momo's conscience. _She's very angry - you are very angry. You are right to be angry, but you are not right to lose control. You're falling sway to impulsive thinking, Master of the Sun. Hatred and anger are powerful, but only when channeled for constructive means. Letting them rule you is counterproductive. You'll never defeat Q that way - you need to tell Tobiume to back down._

You're manipulating me, Hinamori shot back. You want me to throw away my soul and follow your path to destruction! I won't have it!

Kyouka Suigetsu sighed, and Momo was surprised to sense that he seemed resigned. _Think it over, Master. Don't let the rage in your heart consume you - you will lose to evil in the end._

You're not fit to lecture me on good and evil, you prick-faced oversized sack of steel!

Kyouka Suigetsu spoke only a few words before withdrawing: _Perhaps I am not the ideal moral authority - but you know I speak the truth._ With a quiet solace that both Momo and Tobiume found unsettling, he disappeared from the forefront of Momo's consciousness.

Now Momo was even more pissed, although this time mostly at herself. First, she had pissed off Morgan, who was at least treating her with some real respect, and then because she had been lectured to by Kyouka Suigetsu of all things.

Tearing into her first lobster, she found it deeply gratifying to tear off the tail, shove a lobster fork deep into the only-recently-alive crustacean's meat, and spitefully rip out its insides. She and Tobiume took unusual pleasure in disemboweling the sea creature before smothering its edible portions in clarified butter and savoring the flavor with an air of imperious cruelty. At one point, for no reason, she took the lobster mallet and smashed open one of the claws with force that could have broken a human skull - and then for good measure, pointlessly brought the mallet down on the lobster's face.

Morgan took in this display of passive-aggressive fury with caution as he started slowly on his own food. She hadn't even put on the lobster bib. Trying to keep things calm, he tried to approach the situation with mild humor. "Aw now, says, what's that poor bugger done ta yoos tanight?" he asked, popping a french fry into his mouth.

Momo glared at him as she regally hefted a piece of lobster meat on a fork, dramatically swabbed it in cocktail sauce, and then haughtily deposited it in her mouth, chewing melodramatically.

He was extremely cautious. Morgan knew better than to tempt the whims of a god. He had no doubt that if she so desired, she could kill him in an instant. "...Yoos seems a touch mo' ticked off than usual todays," he said simply, trying simple psychology.

Momo looked askance. She _was_ losing control, despite the combined alcohol and nicotine buzz that was keeping her general anxious irritation from agitating her. She exhaled deeply, and Morgan could visibly see her relax a little bit. "...Sorry."

"That's alright," he chuckled. "I'm sherr yoos jus' havin a rough day." _Whew,_ he thought.

Momo let that comment drop, just because it was a fair place to implement a truce. She went back to eating her dinner (although she was much more civilized this time around) and let a not-necessarily-uncomfortable silence hang for a minute.

"...So you said you were married?" she began, trying to switch tactics. Digging for information in a less-direct route might be a better way to find out what I don't know.

"That's right," Morgan said before dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

"Why'd she divorce you?"

"Ak-choo-ally, ittwas tha otha way 'round, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am," he chuckled.

"Fine," she dismissed curtly, "why'd you divorce her?"

Morgan sighed and looked down into his glass of rye, his smile fading again. "Caught her cheatin' on anotha man once. Found out 'twasn't tha ferst time."

Momo set down her fork and mallet, falling into a touch of unease. She felt disgusting. She shouldn't have been so judgemental. "Really?" she asked with sincere apology.

"Yep," he nodded somberly before taking a long pull on his drink.

Momo took another sip of her own, and when she asked her next question, it was sympathetic and genuinely personal. "Do... do you still love her?"

Morgan looked away for a moment before returning to her gaze. "I's thinks its hahd to love summaone who's does thats sorta thing ta ya, if yoos knows whattImean."

She looked down into her plate of food, one half of her feeling like a kindred spirit and the other half of her feeling like a real bitch for giving him a hard time. "Yeah... I understand. I... I really do."

"...Whateveh," he shrugged before forking a small piece of his beer-battered chicken in his mouth. Momo realized it was unusual for him to give such a brief response. He was the kind of guy who loved to talk.

"Was it with someone you knew?"

"...Sorta. He's was anotha guy I an' Lucy wents to West Point with. Took a couple o' classes wit' 'im. He was always one o' them hotshots, yoos knows hows its goes."

Now that was an interesting nugget of information. "You went to West Point?"

"Sherr did," Morgan said proudly, considerably more enthusiastically. "My great-grandpappy, Gawd bless his mem'ry, went ta West Point an' served in World War II. My grandpappy, Gawd bless his mem'ry, he's also goed to West Point anna he served in Vietnam. My father, Gawd bless his mem'ry, he go through West Point anna then he served in Operation Desert Storm. Finally, me's anna my brotha go on through West Point, anna he go off to serve in Iraq, Gawd bless his mem'ry, whiles I's was the black sheep in tha family."

"What do you mean? You didn't join the army?"

"Wells now, afta graduatin' summa cum laude with highest honors from West Point with a bacheluh's in tactical combat, theys wasn't 'bout to throw me in the field like yo' av'rage soldier, hearswhatsIbesayin'?"

"_You_?" Momo laughed in disbelief. "You graduated _summa cum laude_?"

He chuckled back. "Whats, ittsa so hahd ta think thats maybes I's gots a brain?"

"But-"

"Buts if I's ain't be talkin' like I's be a-teachin' Classical English Littrachure in Hahvuhd, I's must be's some hicked-out country bumpkin, amIright?" he teased.

Momo chuckled while nodding her head in admittance. She was more often victim of bad first impressions than not. "Eh, you're full of shit," she teased back with a smirk, making it obvious to Morgan that she was kidding.

Morgan was enjoying recounting this little bit of his past and continued. "So's I wents ta the Secret Serrvuss for a yeeh, but afta Lucy cheated on me whiles I was in Washington, I decided it wun't the place fer me no mo', anna insteads I's wents back to my happy little home in West Point. Got my mastuhs in firearms engineering, and thens when I's heard whats Smith was doin', I went to work for the Nashunul Anti-Terrorizm Ai-jun-cee. Anna so here I am, thoughs I's suppose I's ain't workin' fo' Smith no more."

"So who do you work for?" Momo asked casually, hoping to see if he would take that.

"Fer good peeples in tha United States guvverrment," Morgan answered evasively. "Peeples whos I knows don'ts knows egzacktally whats we's be's doin'. They's jus' knows we's be solvin' thair problems anna theys don't asks no mo' questions than thats. Sos don't thinks yoos gonna find nothin' if yoos try ta be-a askin' above me, theys don't knows nor cares nothin', and besides - I's been more than-a happy to tell yoos whatseveh yoos wants to knows, anyway."

She thought carefully while breaking open a lobster claw (she had already finished the entire first lobster already), although this time she did so with restraint. (Momo had probably generated enough bad karma for the day.) "So you teamed up with Smith, then?"

Morgan shrugged. "I's don'ts knows thats I's _'teamed up'_ wit' him eggzacktally. His aijunncy was already pretty big backs thens. Thoughs, whens he's first came ta hire me, I's thoughts thats hes and I's was o' tha same mind, youknowswhattImean? I mean, Smith was a highly emotional man, toos emotional ta make a good leadda I's be a-thunkin', buts the points was thats he's was a man who's loved whos anna whats he loved, anna hated whos and whats he's hated.

"I's don't know much 'bout her, but Smith loved his 'dopted shinigami sista, annahee luvved killin' hollows 'cuzzit made 'er feel safe. He also luvved the powwa and fo'choon he made fo' himself outta it. He hated tha rest o' tha shinigami 'cuzzhee hated whats theys made him do ta 'is brotha. Unforchoonettly, he lost sight o' what was impawtant in his life, anna allowed his pride in killin' to overrule his priorities o' carin' fer his sista. He was, deep down inna summawhere deep insi'e his soul, a good man - but I's think he let himself go a bit too fah. He let his anti-shinigami passsssshun take him down to a place thats its hahd ta come back from, sees?"

Momo nodded, actually interested. This was a fascinating insight into so many different things - the NATA, Smith; even Morgan.

"Smith was, in my opinion, not necessarily a bad man, buts he's was a flawed man. And ta be honest, I's really can't be faultin' 'im too much fer thats. We's all flawed in some ways o' anotha. I means, in the end, he sinned just like we all sin, right? At some point, we's all sinners when you summit all up," he chuckled. "I means, lookie heers, I's be sitting anna eatin' with a death gawd whos I's admired since I was a wee lil' yungster, one whos knows thats I's been pokin' round her secrets, buts only b'cuzz I's wanted ta do good in tha world and give her whats rightfully hers. Sees, I's a flawed man, too - I ain't ashamed to say I's a sinner; no I ain't. So was Watson - he's was loyal ta tha dollah, buts in tha end, he's also thoughts thats Smith gots a bit too powwa hungry - anna he helped us git yoos yo swohd. In tha end, he was flawed but did right, too. I's would say thats most o' the men who werked fer Smith were likes that, 'cuzz I believe there ain't no such thing as a man without sins o' some kind or anotha. After all, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am," he said suggestively, "summatimes we's trip up anna_ do tha wrong thing on the way ta doin' tha right one,_ amIright?"

Momo looked down into her food, feeling ashamed. She thought of Watson's blood on the floor of his cell. Hinamori had spared him, but it wasn't any comfort. "...Yes," she admitted softly. "I suppose you are."

Morgan nodded knowingly, and Momo knew that even if he didn't know the details, Morgan had understood the gist of what had transpired.

"But, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am, e'en if we's all sinners - 'cuzz we ah, that's jus' tha truth - tha point is that's we's gots ta search fer ah redemption. Ain't nothing in all tha ooniverse an' forsaken kingdom o' forevva an' evva thats don'ts deserve a shot at redemption. We's alls gots ta struggle wit' ahselves, anna even if we's be sinners, we's gots ta look ahselves in tha mirror anna says we's gonna jus' move on anna doos whats we's can ta make tha wuhld a betta place, 'cuzz sittin' on ah asses an' mopin' ain't no betta."

Hinamori looked up into Morgan's eyes for a moment. She found only wisdom there. Momo wasn't sure how she felt about what he said, but the words of Kyouka Suigetsu came to mind. Perhaps they were more true than she first believed:

_I am just a sword, Momo-san; a tool in the hands of the god who chooses to accept my power. Those who accept it choose their own path. Not all of mankind stomps mercilessly on every insect it finds; nor must a god find the lives of mankind unimportant. You are free to choose your own path and make the world according to your liking. Is that evil? Is it evil to want to reshape the world into something better than it was before? You can achieve your dreams and desires like no other can, dear Momo-san, all while improving the lives of all around you in the manner you see fit. Let me help you. That is what I desire. Allow me to guide you._

Was it possible - was it even remotely possible - that Kyouka Suigetsu deserved a chance at redemption? That maybe, just maybe, he really did want to serve Momo in the manner she saw fit - to improve the world, the way she thought she could? That maybe, just maybe, in her hands - just like Morgan thought - that maybe Momo could accomplish the ideals she once held, to do real good and find real good in people? Maybe - maybe there was redemption. Maybe Momo could redeem her new zanpakutou. Maybe... maybe she could redeem _herself. _"...Maybe you're right," she confessed.

He gave her an accepting gesture before speaking. "Says, I don'ts knows 'bout yoos, but I's could use summa dessert. Pahdon me fer suggestin' it, buts yoos lookin' like yoos could use somm ice cream er chocolate fudge, er maybe both," he laughed.

Momo returned him a genuine humble smile. "...It couldn't hurt," she eventually smirked.

He gestured for the waitress (who was shocked to see that the skinny Momo had eaten through two whole lobsters), and after a few moments, she was off to get Momo a peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream and a chocolate-mint mousse for Morgan.

"It sounds like you know a lot about Smith - did you work with him?"

"Nah, I din't really know'im too well. I jus' get my impresshun o' him, based on what little innturrakshun I had when I ferst started."

The waitress, hoping to please the two of them, had brought them each their dessert in record time, along with another glass of rye for Morgan and a second Fuzzy Navel for Momo.

After she left, they each sampled their dessert, and Morgan seemed pleased. "Mmmm, mmm, this is deee_lish_uss, I mus'say. Want a taste, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am?"

Hinamori looked at him funny, but supposed it was a harmless offer. Feeling surprisingly playful, she dug her spoon into the mousse and sampled it. "Hmm. Not bad, actually."

"That's right," he said, savoring another bite. "My favorite, mint and chocolate. Remind me of my momma's new year's candy."

"I don't think I would have pictured you as a mint kind of guy," Momo blurted out.

"Izzat right?" he laughed. "What yoos be a-thinkin', then?"

"No idea," Momo shrugged. "Maybe a raspberry tort, I guess."

"Ya know, raspberry sorbet wit some cocunut ice cream is pretty damn good, too, I mus'say."

Momo let it remain quiet for a minute while she figured out how to get more information out of him, although at the moment she was finding that she was enjoying his company. Perhaps it was because she was being treated like an actual woman rather than someone who was almost there. "So you worked with him when you first joined the NATA?"

Morgan looked wistful, nostalgic, and sad as he continued. "Ya know, when I's ferst joined up wit' Smith, he tolds me, _'Yoos the eggzpert we's need. Yoos tha man who's gonna help us be independent of these shinigami,'_ sees? Sohee sets me's ta work with whats he calls the world's ferst ray-shee-ah-lo-jiss."

"A reishiologist?"

"Yes Ma'am, a ray-shee-ah-lo-jiss. An experienced agent named Q."

Momo's attention perked up and she was all over him. "Q?"

"Yep, a man named Q. Short fer Quigley. Quigley Quentin Yuim, what a de-zass-tuh uvva name his pauw parents gave him."

Momo's soul pill was already in her hand under the table, just in case. "What were you asked to work on with him?"

"Makin' guns an' bullets that could kill hollows, o' course. Smith din't have enough swords, or so he says, annahee wanted weapons we could use thats meant we din't need 'em. Buts in the end, the swords werr so much mo' powwaful, sos thats whats most o' us used. But I's so comfortable wit' a gunn in my hand, I ne'er really bothered."

She was sorely missing important details. "...How long did you work with Q for?"

"Too long," he chuckled. "Two yeehs."

"...And what happened after that?"

"Wells, afta we's get production o' phased weapons that could hit hollows, Q's was moved up ta go sees if he coulda undastand how ta replicate 'em shinigami swords."

"...Whatever happened to him?"

Morgan smiled wide. "Why? Yoos looking fo' 'im?"

Momo didn't answer.

"Aw, c'mon, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am, itt don'ts take no summa cum laude ta be knowin' thats yoos prolly want a bullet in his brain fer doin' whatzhee did ta yer frien', now, amIright?"

Momo decided that it was no point keeping her agenda a secret anymore. _"I want to find Q."_

Morgan slapped his hand on the table with a smile. "Wells thens yoos comes to tha right place, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am. 'Cause I's be waitin' right heer fo' him."

Momo stood up sharply, the wooden chair underneath her getting knocked to the floor. Her fists were clenched and she was ready to take her soul candy. _"What?"_

"Whoas now there, pretty lady. Yoos an' I's ah frinns now, anna we's workin' on tha same side."

_"Explain yourself,_ Morgan!"

"Sherr," he said lazily. "Whys dontchoo si'down anna 'njoy tha rest o' yo' dehzert ferst?"

Momo, embarassed for her little outburst but refusing to give any indication of it, picked up the chair and sat back down.

"Yoos think this restaurant's empty fo' no reason? I knews yoos was comin' anna so I's made sherr that I had two nice burly FBI aijunts keep the place empty, sees?"

Momo looked back to the men by the entrance who had been eating french fries. Morgan nodded to them and they gestured back.

"Sees, Ms. Hinamori-san, I's gots ova eigthy NYC plain-clothes cops, sixty-five FBI folk, fifty Nashunul Guahd and thirteen CIA membuhs stalking all ova the place undacova sos that when Mista Kyoo Kwentin Uim trys to get on a plane ta Romania outta here, thats we's gonna shoots him dead in his big ol' ugly head."

Momo put two and two together. "And Johnson is doing the same thing over in JFK."

"Hah hah! I's likes yoos, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am. Not only yoos gots sass, buts yoos gots smarts, too."

Hinamori actually cracked a smile. She wasn't sure why, but she did. A lot more relaxed now, she discretely put her soul candy back into her pocket and went back to eating.

After a moment, she asked him another question. "So are you also of quincy blood?"

He looked at her funny. "Whatsa quincy?"

_Interesting._ "...Nevermind. But wait - you said the last time we met that you had seen me as a kid." In other words, Morgan could see hollows and shinigami long before Smith ever got to him. Most of Smith's agents could only see spirits because the famed Heaven's Will zanpakutou had been used on them. "Do you know why you can see spirits?"

"Ta be honest wittya, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am, I's nots really sherr. But I's always hads me a theory, as silly as I thinks it mights bes sometime. Ah yoos a ree-lijj-uss lady, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am?"

Momo wondered humorously if choosing to become this god figure that Kyouka Suigetsu kept raving about counted. "...Not sure."

Morgan looked at her as though he was surprised by that answer; as though he thought there was only two answers to the question; yes or no. "Well, then, lets me answa yoos wit a parable, then."

"...Okay," she replied, not sure what else to say.

"Sees, once upon a time, there was these three saints, and theys be a-prayin to Gawd to let them sees heaven so theys can be a-preachin' all about it on Earth. An' Gawd says, _no_ - that's whys they be a-callin' it tha _aftalife_, sees? But these heer saints ah purr-siss-tent and Gawd says I's gave you free will so now I's must let you walk on the path yoos insistin' upon; and so Gawd lets 'em come to heaven ta visit fer a short while. Anna whats theys find thar is thats yoos gots fahmers and blacksmiths an' pauw peeples an' rich peeples an' happy peeples an downtrodden peeples - anna afta lookin' 'round fo' 'bout an owwer, theys be a-realizin' thats tha aftalife izz much like the home theys already in.

"So the ferst saint, he thinks an' says like this: Gawd, I's understand. This is tha heaven thats I's deserve, anna I's be-a humbly akseptin' it. I was a hermit, anna I devoted too much time studyin' all 'bout Gawd 'nstead o' helpin' those 'round me in need. Sos I's gonna go back ta Earth now and doos whatseveh I can ta make tha werld a betta place, anna maybes next time I's be ascendin', I's can be deservin' o' a betta place than this.

"The second saint, thoughs, he's was nunn toos happy. He opens his ahms wide and screams towards tha heavens: Gawd, how could Yoos do this ta me? I's spent my whole life avoidin' the sinful plehzures o' the material wuhld an' soakin' up Yo' divine glory. How's could Yoos doos this to me? Yoos owe me my paradise, Gawd! I ain't gonna let Yoos skimp me outta whats I's deserve, even ifs I's gots ta fight ev'ry aspect o' Yo' creation!

"An' the third saint? Well, he's jus' turns 'is head o'er ta tha otha two an' asks: Who yoos two fools talkin to? S'obvious now thats theres ain't no such thing as Gawd, anna thair ain't no 'eaven and sos thair ain't no 'ell, thair ain't no judgement _an' thair ain't no sin._"

Momo tried to understand the man across from her while being caught up in his story with rapt attention. Could it possibly be that-

"Yoos already figured it out, I bets, din'tcha."

Momo looked at him with an amused hunch. "Theodore Augustus Morgan the _Fourth_," she intimated.

"Hah hah, yoos cleveh, buts no, my pappy and granpappy and great-granpappy was all ak-choo-ally named Theodore Augustus, toos."

"But-"

"LikeIsays, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am, izz jussa theory," he smiled, and Momo picked up the cue that it would be inappropriate for her to continue asking. But Momo did a funny thing - she smiled back - and Morgan's smile seemed less of his standard charisma and more of a sincere, mutual token of admiration and respect. Such a personal, close gesture should have made her feel uncomfortable - but it didn't.

_I like him,_ Tobiume said. _He's genuine._

You what? You like him? Tobiume, you don't like _anybody._

_Maybe. But if I did like someone, I would like him._

But then both Momo and Tobiume second-guessed themselves. Was this the seed of naievety? Was this were she would set herself up for failure? Would she put her faith in a false hope; believe in something, in someone - only to have it crush her heart with both blade and broken future, like it did the last time?

Momo's thoughts were interrupted as a sudden change came over Morgan's demeanor. He was tense as he looked over her shoulder. "Don't move," he cautioned. "Don't say nothin', don't do nothing - yoos keep quiet, 'kay now?" he warned her in a hushed, concerned voice.

She looked over her shoulder as another agent entered the bar. He was about 5'10" and wore the typical men-in-black outfit, although he removed his shades as he approached. He was bald on top with trimmed hair on the side, and he definitely looked dangerous - his face maintained a hawk's predatory stare as he sauntered over with an almost demanding confidence.

If it wasn't for the fact that Hinamori was a shinigami vice captain and possessed superhuman capabilities of perception, she would never have understood what happened next. But in that blink of an eye, Morgan had snapped his forearm outwards, and a small deringer hidden in his sleeve slid down a small track right into the palm of his left hand. His right hand had already retrieved a large handgun from somewhere beneath the opposite armpit on the inside of his coat. Nonetheless, Momo's brain only registered this movement after her ears heard the double-_click_ of two cocking guns.

"Well now, Price," Morgan said lazily as the other agent stopped in alarm, startled to be staring down the barrel of both guns. The small one was pointed at his eye and the other at his heart, and the air was still. _"Whatchoo be doin' here onna day like this?"_

* * *

_**Reviews please!** Sorry, but updates are going to be slow for a while. Don't worry, they're coming.  
FYI, a fuzzy navel is a cocktail made from peach schnapps, in case you didn't know. And yes, I know that West Point currently does not offer a Masters program. In my story, it does. Live with it. ;D  
As promised, below is a listing of the Gotei 13 Heads starting from the beginning of this story. Next chapter, I'll publish the known list of Gotei 13 heads from the future.  
Next chapter: a hodgepodge of things... you'll have to wait and see. ;)_

* * *

_Gotei 13 as of the start of this story (Captains, vice captains; and then lower seats provided when known) until this point:_

_1st Yamamoto / Sasakibe (dead, 5th-3rd Hitamake Hanzo replaces him)  
__2nd Soifon (dead, Yoruichi reinstated) / Omaeda / Hana Tsubaki  
__3rd Yumichika (dead, Rukia nominated) / Kira (incapacitated)  
__4th Unohana / Isane / Iemura / Hanataro [4th seat]  
__5th Kuukaku / Momo / Hanzo (promoted to 1st VC) / ... / Hector Gustavo [18th seat]  
__6th Byakuya / Ichihime  
__7th Komamura / Iba  
__8th Kyoraku / Kiyone  
__9th Renji / Hisagi  
__10th Hitsugaya / Matsumoto __(incapacitated)  
__11th Zaraki (dead) / Yachiru (recovering) / Ikkaku (dead) / Kilik Korakora / Uroshi Jurada [5th seat]  
12th Urahara / Rantao / Akon  
13th Ukitake / Rukia (promoted) / Kotsubaki (dead) / ... / Mushishi Kunda [9th seat]  
Kido Corps: Ise / Fuwu  
Division Black: Ichigo / Karin / Ishida / Chad (dead, replaced by Tatsuki) / Orihime / Tatsuki [6th seat] (promoted to 4th seat)_


	35. Ascension and Escalation

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Translator's note:** The Japanese word 'busu' is literally translated as 'ugly woman', but it is a pretty harsh insult. It is among the most offensive things you could say to a woman._

* * *

_Zari despaired, but held her position. It was nearly hopeless. Unless serious backup arrived, they were all going to die._

_When the vice captain of the 3rd, Shiba Kanchi, called for backup, the 2nd and the 11th had arrived to find a legion of hollows amassed larger than any of them had ever seen. Now they were almost completely surrounded, and Zari had only one goal - to keep them from getting to Kusajishi Yachiru's corpse. Her last will and testament asked that she be buried in Zaraki in the place of her father's ashes, and although Zari feared that she would give her life to defend one already dead, that was her mission and she stood her ground._

_But thankfully, reinforcements arrived. A reinforcement of one, arriving from the small opening in the perimeter that the hollows had not yet overtaken; a small opening that led back to Sereitei. Head Lieutenant Kuchiki Hisako was strolling in down the path._

_Zari had no opportunity to call out to her as she punched through a hollow's mask with her shunko-powered fist, but Hisako was soon upon her. "Zarina-san," Hisako sputtered over the chaos, "- is Kusajishi Fukutaicho...?"_

_The lack of an answer was an answer unto itself, and Hisako slowly bent over to place her hand over the young woman's now-lifeless heart. "Zarina-san..."_

_When Hisako stood up with the glint of sorrow in her stare, Zari's eyes popped wide open. Oh shit. "KANCHI-SAN! EVERYBODY! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! **RIGHT NOW!**"_

_The entire patrol took one look at the regal lieutenant beside the Shihoin princess, and no one needed to be told twice. Zari hoisted up Yachiru's slain figure and flashed as far away as she could muster, reishi slipping under her feet as she glided fast and furious back to Sereitei. Whomever she could nab along the way, she did; despite Kusajishi on her shoulder - without regard for whether or not it caught them off guard._

_Anything to get them away. Far, far, far away._

_The hollows advanced, but Kuchiki Hisako did not care. She withdrew her katana, and they roared in hunger - but Kuchiki Hisako did not care. She slashed her zanpakutou downwards in diagonal form. "Weep my tears, Skyfire," she commanded -_

_- and the oblivion began._

_Within less than a second, meteors, asteroids, and blazing hailstones of fire and brimstone crashed down to the battlefield in a violent torrent of scorching death. The rain of fire and scalding metal burst volcanic ash and cinder into the sky, smashing craters into the earth that smoldered in a tumultuous, swirling rage of sulphuric cremation. The fall of flames from the heavens incinerated the landscape with an indiscriminate annihilation that no one who saw would ever forget._

_The was only absolute certainty - a complete absence of doubt that even a single hollow of the thousands survived. Nothing survived. Nothing remained. Not earth nor vegetation nor hollow; just a Kuchiki princess standing among a charred hell created from the sky._

_For when Kuchiki Hisako actually let others see her cry, there was nothing but destruction._

_~ The death of Kusajishi Yachiru_

* * *

_"There are lots of things I don't understand. That doesn't bother me so much. I'm sure I will come to understand them eventually."_  
_~Banzo Sarashina, lieutenant of the Kido Corps circa 200 years from now_

* * *

Rukia was admittedly nervous as she prepared to enter the Soutaicho's office. She rarely if ever spoke to the captain-commander directly. Her nervousness was broken, however, when Yoruichi suddenly exited. Despite being aware of Yoruichi's pending reinstatement as captain of the 2nd, she was surprised to Yoruichi already wearing a haori. She shouldn't have been, but she was anyway.

"Oh, hey, Kuchiki-san," Yoruichi said as she passed by. "Get in there, he's on a roll."

"Uh... okay," Rukia said, befuddled; but Yoruichi simply laughed and headed out.

Set slightly off kilt by the impromptu greeting, Rukia refocused her attention on the 1st division captain's office before finally deciding to enter. To her semi-surprise, Hitamake Hanzo - Nee-sama's and Momo-chan's 3rd seat - was standing behind Yamamoto. The Soutaicho himself was sitting at his desk in his otherwise completely empty balcony office. Accompanying his cane-hidden zanpakutou, a small box was on his desk. Save for those two items, his desk was just as devoid of items as the rest of the room.

"Yamamoto Soutaicho-dono," Rukia saluted.

"Kuchiki Rukia," he said, his gravelly voice imposing and intimidating. "Do you know why you are here?"

"_Hai,_ Soutaicho-dono," she answered formally.

"Kuchiki Rukia," he croaked, "you have been nominated for a wartime promotion. Do you feel this nomination is fair and just?"

I guess we're getting straight down to business. "_Hai,_" she confirmed.

"Do you swear to honor the Gotei 13, protect the Sereitei, the Rukongai, and all souls?"

"_Hai._"

"Do you swear to purify the hollow so that the balance of all living things in this world and on earth may be maintained for all eternity?"

"_Hai._"

"And do you promise to lead your squad with honor, dignity, and righteousness?"

With nostalgia in mind and an inescapable pull towards the future, Rukia's voice dropped to a steady, quiet-yet-confident tone as she prepared to accept upon herself a new era in her life. "_Hai_ - I swear by the honor of my name and the honor of my sword, I shall."

"Then we have born witness to this woman's resolve. Arise, 3rd Division Captain, Kuchiki Rukia, and don your haori so that all shall know your strength."

From the box, Hitamake removed the folded haori and approached Rukia. She studied the number three until Hanzo unfolded it, its three black bars displayed prominently along the fold on top. "Congratulations," he said with a smile.

With mixed elation and sadness - why, she wasn't sure - Rukia let him fit it on her. It wasn't exactly what Rukia would have picked out - she supposed she could have it tailored the way she wanted it - but it did fit her, even despite her petite size. The haori was simliar to the style that Nii-sama wore, which she supposed was a reasonable guess on their part.

Hitamake directed her to look into a mirror on her right - Rukia was surprised she hadn't noticed it when she came in - and what she saw surprised her.

She was a captain. It was hard to believe.

Rukia had spent so many years unhappy as an unseated officer, and then a decade as Head Lieutenant. From a career perspective, these past ten years had been very fulfilling. She had done great things - managed tens of thousands of soldiers, legions of shinigami troops, and yes, even mountains of paperwork that was actually worth the paper it was printed on. She had seen officers grow and flourish, seen Kotetsu Kiyone flower from an infatuated teenager into a well-respected lieutenant, and-

And-

And perhaps fulfill Kaien's last wish. Somehow. Whatever that wish was.

She didn't really know what it was, come to think of it. But she had the feeling that she fulfilled it; whatever it may have happened to be.

_We have a new journey ahead of us, Rukia-sama,_ Sode no Shirayuki noted, oddly talkative. _And we are ready for it. New beginnings are hard, but there is no better time for change._

Appraising her appearance one last time, Rukia let it sink in how much new responsibility she was going to have. She was a new mother, and a new captain - one of those changes all on its own could be overwhelming. But two at the same time would be a lot. She was going to be busy.

Oh, damnit. I came here to take time off.

Yamamoto's voice interrupted her thoughts. "That will be all," he said. "Congratulations, Kuchiki Taicho. Hitamake will escort you."

Ugh, the 'Kuchiki Taicho' thing is going to be so confusing, Rukia thought.

As Hanzo led her out, Rukia noticed the badge on his arm. "Hey - Hitamake-san...?"

He smiled at her warmly. "That's right," he answered proudly. "Finally earned a badge. Vice captain of the 1st."

"Congratulations, Hitamake _Fukutaicho_," Rukia said, emphasizing his new title. "How is it working for the Soutaicho? Is he always this... gruff?" She would have expected a long briefing session to follow on everything that she was supposed to take care of as a new captain. Her prompt dismissal had been unexpected.

"Oh, he's in a foul mood. He just started thinking about retiring, but recent events and the loss of Sasakibe Fukutaicho have made any kind of smooth transition impossible, so he's stuck hanging around for a while longer."

Rukia was shocked. "Did you say Yamamoto-dono wants to _retire_?"

"Yeah, hard to believe, isn't it?" Hanzo laughed. "He's been the captain-commander for so long, it's hard to think it could ever be anyone else."

Definitely, Rukia thought. The idea that he would just... sit around and drink tea all day, or whatever it is he might do - it just seemed strange. "That must be exciting for you," Rukia mused. "You may have the rare opportunity to serve as the vice captain to two captain-commanders."

Hanzo smirked. "True. And hey, Yamamoto-dono was the vice captain to Ho Shin Yang Soutaicho when he retired, so..."

Rukia laughed out loud. "When that day comes, let me know."

"Yeah, well, even if I miraculously became the most powerful shinigami in Soul Society, I don't think I'd want the job, anyway," he chuckled. "I'm just happy to finally be a lieutenant. Hard to believe I finally did it."

"It's a very significant and hard-earned accomplishment, and you should celebrate," Rukia suggested. "It was deserved for a long time. I'm sure Hinamori-san is very proud of you," she added offhand.

His face morphed into one of worry. "...Yes, I'm sure."

"What's wrong?" Rukia asked as Hanzo led her through the 1st division's administrative office compound.

"I'm worried about Hinamori-san," he answered. "I think she's been in a downwards spiral lately."

Rukia knew nothing about it. That made her feel terrible. Momo was a friend of hers. Many years ago, they had been closer; but they were at different stages in their respective lives, and with Rukia spending most of her time trying to conceive these past few years, it had been hard to work at it. Now she didn't even have a clue. "Why? What happened?"

Hanzo stopped and looked side to side, checking to see if there was anyone listening. "I spoke with Abarai Taicho. It seems that something happened between Hinamori-san and Kira Fukutaicho, and she took it pretty badly."

"Really? What happened? Kira-kun and Momo-chan have been dating for a long time - almost ten years, maybe more. What could have happened?"

"I don't know," Hitamake shook his head. "I don't really have that kind of relationship with Hinamori-san that she would tell me, and all Abarai Taicho said was that he was partly to blame and that he didn't want to talk about it. But she started smoking now, so much that I don't think she could easily stop."

"What?" Rukia asked in a hushed whisper, trying to avoid attracting attention in the 1st division compound commons area. "Momo-chan is smoking? Since when?"

"Not sure, but it's been rather sudden," he answered quietly. "I'm not the only one who's worried about her. Shiba Taicho is also concerned, although I don't think she's had an opportunity to talk with Hinamori-san, because she's been so preoccupied with- Oh! I guess I should say congratulations; Shiba Taicho has a new niece. I suppose you know already, since she's your sister-in-law."

Rukia gave him a look. She would have thought word had gotten around by now. Gossip tends to spread quickly. "Um, that would be me. I have a new daughter."

Hitamake's eyes opened wide in surprise. "Oh! Wow, really? Congratulations! I had no idea! I thought it was Shiba Ganju-dono and his wife who had a baby. I, uh, couldn't tell that you were, uh..."

"I wasn't," she smiled, giving him an out from the awkward sentence. "We adopted."

"Really? Wonderful!" he said. "My wife and I have adopted two children," he noted. "Although we're just regular Rukongai folk; so that's pretty commonplace."

"Believe me, I envy you," Rukia chuckled. Almost all families in the Rukongai adopted their children; they outnumbered biological children three-to-one. "Actually, I came to the 1st to put in for some time off; I would like to take a brief maternity leave."

Hitamake laughed, and they started walking again. "You're a captain now. If it's less than a week per month, just go."

Rukia was surprised. "Are you serious? Whenever? You mean there's no paperwork to fill out?"

"Of course I am," he said. "Not a single form, as long as you don't miss the weekly captain's meeting. One of the major perks. Nice, isn't it?"

Wow. Maybe I'll still be able to visit Ichigo regularly, she thought. "Yeah, that _is_ nice."

Hitamake opened a gate for her by the edge of the compound, and chivalrously gestured for her to go first. "What does Kurosaki-dono think of your promotion?"

Oh _shit._ I totally forgot to tell him about it.

_It's not like you weren't busy,_ Sode no Shirayuki reminded her.

I wish that was a good excuse. He's going to kill me.

The lady in the moon-colored kimono chuckled. _I'm sure he'll overlook it._

I hope so.

_I'll talk to Zangetsu, don't worry._

"...Kuchiki Taicho?"

"That's Nii-sama's title," Rukia recovered quickly, snapping out of it.

"Uh, so, ah... how about 'Kuchiki-nee Taicho'?"

"I suppose it will have to do," Rukia sighed. It was clunky, but better than any of the alternatives.

Hitamake gestured to the path on the left, towards the direction of her new division. "Alright, Kuchiki-nee Taicho. You should probably head to the 3rd division office before you go on leave, just to try and establish some order. They're really lost in there."

Rukia hesitated. She didn't want to lose any more time - she couldn't wait to see Yuzu and show off Hikaru - but it was probably a good idea to at least stop in quickly before she left. "Alright."

Hitamake's voice dropped. "And if I can ask this of you, Kuchiki-nee Taicho - do you think you could talk to Hinamori-san when you have a chance? We're worried about her."

Rukia sighed as she nodded. Ichigo and everyone else were waiting for her. "I'll try."

-:-

Sheldon Horace Grimworth Jr., more widely known in his circles as Konoshima Subentara, was wondering what it could be when the latest news was slipped under the door of his personal quarters in the housing units of the Central 46 chambers.

Sipping on his brandy - the finest, most expensive, most rare brandy that other people's money could buy - he surveyed the report from Garaku. Kuzaku Mikoto seemed to have a recent run-in with the ugly _busu_ that was now running the Banzo House; that lady whose face looked like a mud-stained doormat.

In other news, Naga Toretino was furious about the rumors of Catwoman digging up an old widow who had once married into the Naga Family. Supposedly she had been framed by Toretino's great grandmother, and Toretino was furious at the suggestion that his GG was a crook. Eh, she probably was. I don't give a shit, but it's useful ammunition to keep that hotpot of steaming crap from bothering me. Nobles. What a bunch of twits.

Hmmm - what's this? I see we've also got a nosy little bitch snooping around, he thought. Aizen's little lollicon-fuckbag searching after Q, huh? Well, she can get exactly what she wants. That'll teach her.

Sheldon picked up the phone and called the attendant staff. "Oi, get Nakatsu over here. And then send me two geishas in about an hour; with caviar, calamari, good red wine and some wagyu beef in saffron sauce. Oh, and agassi pears in vanilla cream, too."

"Is that all, Your Excellency?"

"Make sure the geishas don't forget to bring the cocaine and ecstasy. No skimping."

"Yes, Your Excellency."

Annoyed that Nakatsu wasn't already there by the time he hung up the phone - it was amazing how impatient you could get when you became one of the most powerful men in a dimension - Sheldon sat down on his velvet-covered plush couch and turned on his 128" plasma screen TV to watch a game of American football. The Patriots versus the 49ers. It was going to be a great game - and to think that he didn't have to even think about the exorbitant cost of a cross-dimensional cable signal.

Nakatsu finally knocked on the door. "C'mon in," Sheldon said in Japanese, putting away Mr. Grimworth for a while and tossing on his Konoshima hat.

"Hai," the shinobi clad in black saluted after entering and closing the door.

"Show me your loyalty," the Central 46 judge demanded.

Nakatsu bowed head to floor, then crawled over to Sheldon's feet. After pulling down his own facemask, Nakatsu unwrapped the judge's feet; and then he proceeded to lick them clean. He was sure to remove the toejam from between each toe with care, and used his teeth to scrape the dirt clean from underneath Sheldon's toenails. Afterwards, he dried the judge's feet with his facemask before putting it back on, replacing his superior's shoes, and then finally crawling backwards to where he had first grovelled.

"Sufficient," Sheldon said lazily, taking another swirl from his glass of brandy. "Now I have an assignment for you."

"My life is sustained only by your whim; it is yours to command."

"Take your men and do what I tell you: Find Banzo Ichihime and kill her. Find this Naga Toyuki, rape her, and then kill her. Then find Q and tell him to find Hinamori Momo, and then maim, rape, and kill her."

"Is there anything else, Your Excellency?"

"Yes. If you fail, kill yourself in an excruciating manner."

"As you command, so I will obey." And then Nakatsu left.

Sheldon went back to his football game. Ah, the benefits of unswerving loyalty, he thought. What a great life.

-:-

Rukia was surprised to find Nii-sama waiting for her in the 3rd division office.

"Congratulations, Imoto Taicho," he offered. Rukia was surprised to hear it from him - it was rare that he commented on her accomplishments. Rukia wasn't really ever offended by his lack of commentary; Nii-sama was just someone who chose not to speak on matters that he felt were obvious.

"Thank you - but, uh, what are you doing here?"

Byakuya was impassive for a moment. "I thought it best to speak with you briefly about the upcoming legislative session before you departed. By the time you get back, it is likely there will be scarce opportunities for discussion."

Rukia was admittedly intrigued, even though all she really want to do was rush in and out so she could get to the party in Karakura. Ichihime had already hinted that there was something big going on. Although Rukia normally stayed out of this particular form of torture, she knew that this time, for Hikaru's sake, she was going to need to be there. "...Okay, what is it?"

He was hesitant. "Politics are a matter of tide and turn," he began. "There will be much that you will not understand."

Rukia wasn't sure of what he was saying. "It's not like I've never been to a Session for Aristocracy, Nii-sama. I'm not sure what you're implying - I know what goes on." It's a bunch of people spewing nonsensical procedural lingo fast enough to avoid being interrupted.

"...Perhaps you may have witnessed the supposedly tame discussions of taxation schedules, cooperative business negotiations and economic regulation," he began, "all of which are fairly mundane and commonplace matters of discussion. And despite that, the amount of vitriol that is shed over such routine matters of debate is enough to make most of us abstain from the minutiae for fear of being drawn into an endless pit of argument."

"...You think this session will be even worse than usual," Rukia guessed.

"Precisely," he nodded. "And further so, you must understand that masters of the craft of politics excel in saying one thing while endorsing another."

"I know that everyone has a hidden agenda, Nii-sama. I've seen it before. This is all rather elementary - what are you getting at?"

Byakuya hesitated. "It is imperative that you follow the flow of what transpires, and not allow what you see and hear inside the four walls to cloud your understanding of the people involved."

Are you being vague on purpose? Geez, you're really annoying me. Either that, or Ichigo's impatience is rubbing off on me. "Nii-sama, if you were aiming for subtext, it's not working," she tsked back to him amusingly.

"Take, for example, Kuukaku-san and Banzo-san," Byakuya offered, realizing he wasn't being clear. "In the political sphere, it is widely thought that they are vehement nemeses."

Rukia thought about that for a moment. "But that's ridiculous. Ichihime-san is your vice captain, and Kuukaku-san is your wife. Ichihime-san is always a welcome guest in our house; she visits Nee-sama and Hisako-chan and I all the time. Wouldn't you say that she is a friend of the family, Nii-sama?"

"Of course," he nodded. "But Banzo-san was also jilted by Kuukaku-san's brother. What may be truth to you and I is not necessarily known to the greater realm of the noble court, nor should it be. In fact, one of the strongest means of leverage we have in the Four Houses is that the Upper, Middle, and Lower Courts do not know this for certain, even if many of them suspect it from time to time. They are more inclined to believe that which we consistently portray - that the House of Banzo, and by extension of Banzo-san's aunt, the House of Shihoin - are at war with the House of Shiba, and by extension, a tense relationship with the House of Kuchiki."

Rukia wasn't quite sure that she understood the full implications of this, but it was beginning to dawn on her. "You're saying that for all intents and purposes, we should assume that it's every man for himself?"

"...No," he shook his head pedagogically. "I would rather say that you should expect everyone to play the part that will provide the most influence over the other courts, and not to believe anything you hear - for it may be an act. And more importantly, that you play along. For instance, we will appear to make many enemies who may actually be our friends, and even more certainly, we will seem to make many friends who are actually our enemies. It is important that you take nothing at face value."

"Like you suggesting I give up my only child," she said flatly, understanding the connection but unable to let go of the unpleasantness that conversation had taken.

Byakuya nodded. Even though they were both aware of his insincerity at the time, as a father, the statement stung him nonetheless. "...Thus it is evident that you understand."

Rukia nodded. Byakuya looked sullen, and she realized that she didn't want to leave him with a sour taste in his mouth. Not sure of what to say, she simply reached out to take his hand, and she was pleased when he took it. She couldn't recall ever doing that before, but she discovered something that she found rather peculiar - that what he did not communicate in words, he communicated kinesthetically. Rukia could feel his self-loathing at what he had done to her, but she could also feel that he was grateful for her forgiveness and for her devotion despite his faults - and she could feel it all through his fingers. It was an unusually personal moment; possibly intimate in the same sense that it was one of the rare occasions that they were family first, and everything else was unimportant.

"Is that all?" she said quietly, letting go of his hand.

Byakuya walked towards the door without answering, but in the doorway, he looked over his shoulder at her - and Rukia had an overpowering sense of deja vu. "The Pride of the Kuchiki House needs no more education from me," he answered, and then he left.

Tch, a simple 'good luck' would have sufficed, Rukia thought amusingly. She savored his compliment nonetheless.

I love you too, Nii-sama. Thank you.

-:-

"Now that's no way to greet a friend, Morgan," Price answered. His smarm was tangible.

"The enemy o' my enemy ain't always my friend," Morgan retorted, his focus flawless. He was positioned squarely between Momo and Price, his stance clearly intended to protect her. "Whatchoo want, Price?"

Momo was confused and intrigued all at the same time. Whoever this Price fellow was, it was clear that Morgan didn't like him. Momo was surprised that Morgan was playing the role of guardian. Momo could take care of herself, and Morgan knew it. She had her soul pill in hand under the table just in case. Yet his protective behavior seemed chivalrous to her. It was kind of refreshing.

"Eh, put that shit away, Morgan," Price answered cockily, swatting the deringer out of his face.

And without hesitation, Morgan shot two point-blank military-style assassination shots into his chest, exactly two inches apart.

The waitress screamed from behind the bar as Price was blown back behind the wisps of gunshot smoke. Momo was on edge. The burly men outside who were guarding to door looked inside but didn't seem to otherwise care.

Momo was speechless. Did he - did he just...?

"God_damn_it, Morgan!" Price creaked in a weak groan, trying to get himself up off the floor.

Morgan smirked, but his guns were still trained on Price. "Whatsamattuh, Price? Neveh had ta test yer bulletproof vest befo'?"

"You motherfucking son of a bitch," Price grumbled in a raspy, breath-starved voice. "That fucking _hurt._"

"I bet," Morgan answered. "Considda it a warning, Price. Now I's gonna repeat myself an' don'tchoo make me dooittagain: Whatchoo want?"

Momo watched, wide-eyed and cautious, as Price slowly got to his feet. To her professional eye, he looked as though he had been slammed in the chest and had the wind knocked out of him, but not much more.

That must be a pretty impressive vest, she figured.

Price was on his feet now, dusting himself off. He took a moment to catch his breath, ignoring the laser-like lock of Morgan's barrels aimed at his vitals. Morgan himself was quiet and gave Price time to collect himself.

"I came to talk, Morgan," he finally said.

"So talk," he smirked, guns still trained perfectly.

Price thought about his options. It wasn't like he could beat Morgan on the draw. Hell, _nobody_ could beat Morgan on the draw.

Momo was on red alert. The situation was clearly tense and she was not entirely sure what was going on. Guns had already been fired. Everything had already escalated way too quickly. This was serious and she didn't have a clue as to what she should do. All she knew was that Morgan had asked her to keep quiet. She wasn't sure why he had asked this of her, but she intuitively trusted his suggestion (order?).

Price gestured over to Momo, his voice clearly connotating whether or not it was safe to talk. "Who's your friend?"

"Her name's Georgia," Morgan answered lazily, his casual voice belying the tenuous calm.

"Georgia?" Price asked skeptically. "Does she have a last name? Or is it just 'Georgia'?"

"Tchaikovsky," Morgan answered. "Rhymes with _Fuck-Off_-ski."

Price grimaced. "Morgan..."

"Anything yoos wanna say ta me, yoos kinna say ta her," Morgan explained. "So don'tchoo wurry 'bout it, sees?"

He sighed. "I came to make you a deal."

"Izzat so?" Morgan chuckled. "Yoos be thinkin' I's be a-wantin' ta make a deal wit' wunna Jones's boys, eh? Whoos yoos thinkin' yoos talkin' toos, Price?"

Price ignored Morgan's commentary. "Look, we both want Q dead. We've got the same short-term goal here. Let's help each other."

"No thanks," Morgan shrugged, or as much as he could without disturbing his aim.

"Get real, Morgan. You're never going to be able to take Q down by yourself."

"I's be happy ta knows yoos so wurried 'bout me, Mista Price, buts I's believe I kinna takes care o' myself, thankyaverrymutch."

Price was persistent. "Look at yourself, Morgan. You're burning time hanging out here, waiting for Q to walk into your lap. He's too smart for that. He's going to find a way around you. Hell, he _has_ found a way around you."

Momo was mildly surprised that Morgan's answer wasn't immediately dismissive. "Anna how yoos proposin' ta help me? Why, yoos think yoos know where he's is?"

"Oh, I don't _think_ I know," Price grinned darkly. "I _know_."

Morgan paused. "I thought yoos said yoos came ta talk, Price. _Talk._"

"My offer is simple. We'll help you get to Q and help you kill him. In return, we want his sword."

Morgan laughed. "Nows why's would I be stoopid enuff to trade one kinda poison fo' anotha?"

"I'm not messing around, Morgan," Price retorted angrily. "You know goddamn well that Q is far more dangerous than any other man on earth. The sooner we snuff him, the sooner we can _both_ sleep at night."

"So then whatta ya need me's fo', Price?" Morgan challenged calmly. "If yoos so confident yoos kinna take on tha job yo'self, why yoos heer disturbin' my dinna?"

Price grimaced, realizing that he was stuck. He was going to have to trade information. "Jones and the rest were viciously slaughtered. Peterson and I were out at the time and so we managed to be spared."

"Anna I care becuzz...?"

"Security cameras show they were cut to shreds by a shinigami in a haori."

Now _that_ got Momo's attention. Who would do that? Killing humans wasn't generally allowed, and even when it was, it was definitely frowned upon. Which captain would actually do that? The only one she could think of was Soifon, but she was dead. Possibly Kuchiki Taicho - Byakuya would follow orders - but it didn't seem like the type of mission the 6th was usually sent on. Assassination was strictly the domain of the 2nd. On the other hand, without a captain of the Onmitsukido right now, it wasn't beyond possibility that the 6th would be deployed. Momo made a mental note to see if she could get information out of Shiba Taicho when she had a chance.

"Izzat right, Mista Price?" Morgan asked like he didn't give a damn. "Anna I care becuzz...?"

"I thought you made a deal with them, Morgan. I thought you made a deal. Let them have Smith and let the rest of us go on with our business."

Interesting, Momo thought. I'm beginning to see why Morgan wanted me to be quiet.

"Yoos _almost_ correct," Morgan answered lazily. "I suggested that theys be leavin' us sincere folk alone. But I's just a lonely human, and theys the gawds, Mista Price. Theys kinna be a-decidin' ta doos whateveh the 'ells they feel like anna I ain't stoopid enuff ta think that jus' be-cuzz I be-askin' that they's gots ta be-a listenin'. And besides, Mista Price - I only suggested that they's be leavin' us _sincere_ folk alone."

"Kiss my ass, Morgan," Price spat.

"Turn aroun' an' bend ova, Price, anna I be happys ta do so with a .45 gauge revolva anytime yoos wants," Mogan taunted back.

Price frowned. "If the shinigami keep coming after us, there won't be enough of us left to take down Q. And I want to get to him before the shinigami do. I want that sword, Morgan, and you and Johnson are the only ones who have any kind of connection with the blackrobes. So we want you to tell them to leave us alone and let us deal with our own problems by ourselves."

"Anna what makes you think thats I's gots any sorta connekshun to tha shinigami?" Morgan asked, interested.

"C'mon Morgan, I'm not an idiot," Price answered. "Watson double-crossed everybody. While he was helping you steal swords from Smith, he was caught trying to bring others from Shinigamiville to replace the ones you took. You surely realize that Jones knew what you were doing."

Morgan seemed unfazed. "Well, ya knows thats me an' Jones go back a long ways," Morgan noted, and Momo's head began to swirl with thoughts like erupting fireworks. "I'm sherr he always kinna guess whats I's be doin'... Too bad he's _dead._"

"I accept your sincere condolences," Price retorted sarcastically.

"Eenuff fee-loss-o-fizin', Mista Price," Morgan said, sheathing his guns. Momo wasn't sure why she felt a breath of relief come over her. Was she concerned that something would happen to Morgan? She didn't know.

Price frowned again. "I don't trust them, Morgan. The shinigami can't be trusted."

"Yoos make it sound like we's be expectin' them ta doos summthin' we would be-a askin' 'em," Morgan retorted. "Theys ain't humans thats we 'trust' in, Price. They's tha gawds. We's don'ts gots tha right ta even asks them ta do nothin'. We's kinna pray, anna we's kinna hope - buts theys be-a decidin' whats theys wants ta doos, anna we jus' ak-sept it 'cuzz it ain't ah place ta tell them othawise."

"Spare me your pious crap and go fuck a nun," Price shot back. "If they came after Jones, they're coming after you."

Morgan laughed as though Price had told the funniest joke ever heard. "Wells, then, Mista Price, I's kinna only say that I ain't afraid of tha aftalife, so's if thair divine decree sezz it's time ta come sends me there, then whoos ammI ta complain?"

"I want that sword," Price insisted. "The purple one. And if you ask the shinigami not to interfere, they might listen to you. That's the deal, Morgan. You get to find Q, and we get the sword."

"Wells, yoos outta luck, Mista Price. Go tell Peetuhson I's not interested."

Price breathed deeply and made a 'your loss' gesture with his hands and head. "Too bad, Morgan. You'll never find him."

"Anything else, o' ah we dunn heer?"

"We're done here," Price answered bitterly. "Good luck, Morgan. And I hope your jailbait hussy gives you good head before Q make you regret your decision."

Momo practically jumped out of her chair, but Morgan seized her arm and held her back. "Now, now, Ms. Georgia - it ain't wise ta be hittin' Mista Price," Morgan admonished, and Momo glared back at him.

"That's right, bitch," Price spat. "Listen to your sugar daddy."

"Don't kid yerself, Price," Morgan retorted sternly with eyes colder than ice, his carefree attitude vanishing as though a dark stormcloud appeared suddenly out of a clear blue sky. "I ain't worried 'bout her. I's only holdin' her back 'cuzz if she gets her hands on you, she's gonna break yo' face anna shove it so fah up yer ass thats yoos be havin' a hahd time tellin' Peetuhson 'bout how I refused yo' offer. Now yoos betta not be offendin' Ms. Georgia, o' tha next time I's not gonna keep her from turnin' yoos an' yo' rotten ass into a smolderin' pile o' steamin' shit. 'Cuzz I refuse to take ree-sponz-ibb-ill-ittee fer callin' yer poor mama ta offa my insincere condolences if yoos be a-beggin' fo' a beating like yoos neveh seen befo', yoos undastand?"

Morgan let go of his tight grip on Momo's arm, and she shifted her gaze of death at the larger agent. Her fists were clenched tight but her anger was nonetheless restrained.

_I **really** like him now,_ Tobiume commented.

You know, as men go, he's really not so bad, Momo agreed.

Price's eyes narrowed cautiously. Morgan was not a bluffing man, and Price didn't survive through hundreds of hollow fights without a good understanding of the hunter's instinct. The look in her eyes was clear.

She was no girl. She was a demon. And she wouldn't think twice about eviscerating him.

With a snarl, Price's only response was a "Tch" before he turned around slowly and began to walk out of the bar.

Momo and Morgan stood tense, waiting until he was well out of sight before continuing.

"What the hell was that about?" Momo asked, pissed off.

Morgan sighed. "Agent Tobias Price."

"He was a jerk."

"Always was," Morgan answered, and then he went back to his rye.

Momo watched Morgan carefully as he sat back down and sighed. He wasn't talking, which meant he was upset. "What's wrong?" she asked genuinely, returning to her own chair and then sipping on her drink.

"He's right, chooknow," Morgan confessed. "Q is a crafty man. If Price knows he found a way aroun' us, then we's gonna have a hahd time pickin' up his trail. 'Twould be much easier if they's already know where we's could find 'im."

_But we can find out,_ Kyouka Suigetsu interrupted.

Momo was surprised. How? We don't know where he is, either.

_But I know someone who can find out, Master of the Sun._

Huh?

_Rantao Kiku,_ Kyouka Suigetsu explained. _She can find anyone or anything. Give her Q's name, and she can tell you exactly where he is._

Really? How do you know?

He hesitated before answering in a surprisingly sheepish manner. _Occulus Omnispectivus is... not quite as prude._

_I am not prude!_ Tobiume interjected.

Oh for heaven's sake, Tobiume, shut up, Momo grumbled at her. Not now. Kyouka Suigetsu, are you positive she can help us find Q?

_Absolutely,_ he answered.

Why didn't you say anything until now?

_Until now, the only identifying information you had would be to ask for the man who incapacitated Matsumoto-san. That would have informed Rantao-san of your motivations; she would have then likely informed your captain and otherwise made it difficult for you to continue carrying out our mission. However, now you have his full name. Providing Rantao-san with only that identifying information would give her enough information to find him, but she wouldn't be able to make the connection to Matsumoto-san; at least not immediately. It would give you the opportunity to continue unimpeded._

Momo understood. She didn't want anyone getting in her way, so Kyouka Suigetsu's omission was reasonable. She didn't know how exactly Rantao Fukutaicho would be able to locate Q, but if all she needed was his name, then she could do that. Alright, then. Let's do it.

"Yoos alright, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am?" Morgan asked. "Yoos look con-temm-play-tivv."

Momo stood up slowly. "I'm fine," she answered with a smile. "In any case, I must be going."

"So sudden?" Morgan's eyebrows shifted upwards in surprise. "I's hope I din't offend ya," he apologized.

"No," she smiled warmly. "But I have what I need to find Q."

Morgan tilted his head in surprised acquiescence. "Well, then, good luck ta yoos. I's hopes thats if yoos be willin' toos, maybes I'll be privvliged to meet witchoo again sos yoos kinna tell me how ya killed 'im, iff thatz okays wit' yoos."

Momo looked at him with an odd, foxy glint in her eye. Morgan didn't know how to interpret it - was she being crafty? Clever? Cunning? Whatever it was, it was sassy and sexy.

"Thanks for dinner, Morgan," she said, perhaps her voice a touch more sultry than intended. Thanks for being a gentleman - thanks for treating me like a real woman, she wanted to say; but she knew she shouldn't.

"Yoos welcome," he said, suddenly a little flustered. He wasn't quite sure what information Lieutenant Hinamori had been looking for, and now he was trying to figure out what it was that he had said. Not that he minded - he was happy to help her find and kill that bastard - but he sure would have liked to know what she was thinking. She was very much a mystery to him.

Momo pushed her chair in. "And Morgan?"

"Yes?"

Her lithe figure stretched sweetly as she looked at him over her shoulder, her mangy loose hair looking dirty in all the right ways. "Just so you know, I don't think you're too old for me at all."

Morgan's heart was beating like a kettle drum as she strolled out, and his eyes couldn't help but admire her jeans from the other side. Then he realized he was staring at a god's ass like a hormone-addled teenager, and he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his face. Too much whiskey, he thought. Losing my self-control. It's gotta be the whiskey.

In his mind, no matter how hard he tried, Morgan would be a sinner until the day he died. Hopefully, eliminating Q would be penance enough.

-:-

_About forty-five minutes ago_

Q's new cell phone rang. The timing was perfect. Q had just finished sawing the head off the good-old-fashioned Italian tailor who just finished making him his three-piece suit. "Hello?"

"Q, this is the Ivory Tower Center calling. We have a message for you. Are you prepared to accept transmission?"

Q's eyes brightened. _Niiiiiiccce._ "No, wait - not yet. Could you hold on a minute?"

"Holding, sir."

"Awesome," Q said. Then he unsheathed his katana and looked at the shade of purple on the blade. Yeah, I should have enough.

"Hello?"

"Yes, Q. Are you ready for transmission?"

"Actually, no, but I did want to say something to you first."

"What's that, sir?"

"Thanks for the interdimensional connection." Then he tossed the phone into the air and jabbed the sword right through it, impaling the operator through the ear all the way on the opposite side of the interdimensional barrier. With a twist of the hilt, Q converted his entire body to spirit matter, sucked himself straight through his epsilon zanpakutou and the interdimensional channel, and popped out the other side of the operator's now-impaled head, right in the middle of the administrative office of the Central 46 Governance Chambers.

Pulling out the zanpakutou from the idiot's skull, he wiped the blood off on the dead man's yukata and surveyed the environment. Sheathing his sword, he smiled contentedly, pleased with his new surroundings.

"Perfect," he mused out loud. "Now all I need to do is find the kitchen and get some grub."

_Eat shit, Morgan. Let's see if you can find me now._

With that, the most dangerous living being in the entire universe marched out into the main antechamber of Central 46.

* * *

_Sorry this chapter took so long. I was very unhappy with my initial draft and had to rework some pieces and go through editing all over again. Special thanks to stormcrowley for his help here. __As promised, below is the upper echelon of the Gotei 13 that have already been revealed through flashforwards._

_**Reviews please!** Especially on this chapter - I'm sure there's a lot to critique, so fire away. Next chapter: Isane's wedding is on the horizon!_

* * *

_Gotei 13, Circa 200+ years from now_

_01: [Unrevealed] / Hitamake Hanzo  
__02: [Unrevealed] / Shihoin Zarina  
03: Kuchiki Rukia / Shiba Kanchi  
04: Kotetsu Isane / Shihoin Tokine  
05: Shiba Kuukaku / Hinamori Momo  
06: [Unrevealed] / Kuchiki Hisako  
07: Banzo Ichihime / Komamura Kitsune  
08: [Unrevealed] / Hitsugaya Makahiro  
09: Abarai Renji / [Unrevealed]  
__10: [Unrevealed] / [Unrevealed]  
__11: Hisagi Shuuhei / [Unrevealed]  
__12: [Unrevealed] / [Unrevealed]  
__13: Kotetsu Kiyone / Kuchiki Hikaru  
KC: [Unrevealed] / Banzo Sarashina_

_And yes, I already know who everyone is, but I simply haven't told you yet. ;)_


	36. Highs and Lows

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note:** I'm sure you're all wondering why it has taken me so long to publish this next chapter, especially since historically I post fairly steadily. The answer is that I had a very nasty fall and needed emergency surgery, and have had a slow recovery process. Thankfully, everything will be fine, but I'm adjusting to life in a wheelchair for the moment and have needed to catch up on work before I could get back to writing. Chapters will take me a bit longer, since I'm so backlogged on work and therefore I don't have as much editing time as I like, but hopefully I will be able to post on a regular schedule, even if it is occasionally biweekly. I appreciate your patience and thank you in advance for all your warm wishes - I hope you continue to follow my works and that the intermission didn't bother you too much._

* * *

_"You're asking if my mother has a temper? You do know her shikai explodes on command, right?"_  
_~10th division lieutenant Banzo Vojiro; eldest child of 7th division captain, Head of House Banzo Ichihime_

* * *

_Kanchi heard a hard knock-knock on the door to her room._

_C'mon, you gotta be kidding me. Please no. "Yeah?"_

_"It's me," Ganju called from the other side of the door. "Can I come in?"_

_Kanchi facepalmed. Great. Just great. "Yeah, c'mon in."_

_Ganju came in and found his only daughter sitting on her bed. Her shoulder-length wavy brown hair wasn't tied up like it usually was, and she was still in uniform. To be honest, she looked a little bit of a mess. "Hey. I thought you might want some company."_

_Kanchi gave him a look. "Company?" That was odd._

_"Yeah," he said casually. "Maybe... maybe like a game of chess, or something."_

_"Oyaji, you su- er, you're not very good at chess," she said, reminding herself that he was still her father and it wasn't respectful to talk to him like she did to her brothers._

_"I know, but still," he shrugged. "I thought you might be up for a game."_

_Kanchi gave him another look, but ultimately shrugged. "I guess, if you want."_

_He nodded with a small smile, and Kanchi took out the chess set she had inherited from her late uncle, Kaien. Setting up at her desk while her father pulled over a small stepstool, the two sat down and played chess in simple, amicable silence for a while. Kanchi was a serious chess player and defeated him easily, but he tried to put up a decent fight nonetheless. Only the words "Check" and eventually "Checkmate" broke the quiet peace._

_"Good game," Ganju said to her._

_"Thanks," Kanchi accepted simply, not really wanting to say more than that._

_"Anything you want to talk about?" he asked, hoping that his end-of-the-road attempt to get her to open up would help._

_"No," Kanchi replied tenderly, and then kissed her father on the cheek. "...But thanks."_

_She still seemed distant, but Ganju was okay with it. His sons were one thing - he knew exactly how to deal with them - but his teenage daughter remained a mystery. Nonetheless, Ganju understood that despite his inability to penetrate her veil of standoffishness, he had helped in some way he could not understand. And, as a father, it was a victory he was happy with._

_~Father and daughter, many years into the future_

* * *

_Hikifune Yoshino gulped as she eyed her opponent. Hinamori Momo was by far the most intimidating lieutenant in the Gotei 13 - even more than the imperious Kuchiki Hisako. The large scar that ran across Hinamori's nose and left eye, all the way until wrapped over her shaven head, was purple and pulsating with a dark brood of hatred; circling her searing left eye with a ring of red, mottled skin. The stare was cold and piercing, as if to say that Hinamori was eager to rip Yoshino's heart out of her chest, take a bite out of it, and then spit the still-beating flesh back down Yoshino's throat._

_Deep breath, Yoshino reminded herself. Deep breath. Abarai Taicho said that I only have to last twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. That's it._

_Oh my god, I'm gonna die._

_~ 9th division 7th seat, Hikifune Yoshino, undergoing eligibility trials for the 9th division lieutenant's position;  
__sometime in the future_

* * *

"Sheldon! How are you doing, buddy?"

Grimworth dropped his tray of cocaine, the powdery substance showering the geisha's hairdo in his lap. She stopped immediately, sensing the danger, and quickly relocated herself to the back wall. "...Q - you're here?"

"Yes, I am!" he smiled, his toothy grin displaying a distinct lack of insanity. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"...Yes - uh, fantastic," Sheldon said nervously. It had been a while since he had last seen Quentin, and he looked just the same as ever. Easygoing, laidback, impeccably dressed. Friendly, casual. The last kind of person you would expect to be a completely amoral bastard. "I didn't realize we were ready to proceed so soon."

"Yeah, me neither," Q answered, admiring the fine surroundings. "Nice place, Sheldon. You've really got it good here, huh?"

"...It's a living," he chuckled nervously.

"Too bad, eh?"

Sheldon breathed cautiously. "Ah, yeah - too bad, right."

"So you know where it is?"

"Of course," Sheldon answered quickly. "But it will take me some time to get it."

"Of course," Q repeated, without any devil's glint in his eye. "No doubt. In any case, can you direct me towards a lab? I've already raided the kitchen. Great octopus, I really gotta tell you."

"Yes, uh, the octopus is good," Sheldon agreed warily. "The lab is on floor six. Punch in access code 3281839854."

"Awesome," Q smiled, nodding. "Anyway, you go back to being Konoshibu, I'll just be on my way."

"Konoshima," Sheldon corrected carefully.

"Konoshibu, Konoshima, whatever," Q shrugged as he walked out of Sheldon's quarters. "Later, Sheldon!"

"Yeah, see you later," Sheldon replied nervously, only breathing a sigh of relief when the door to his apartment in the Central 46 chambers was closed.

-:-

_A few hours later_

"Oi, Kuchiki! C'mon already!"

Rukia was startled from her desk to find Toshiro staring at her. "Huh?"

"Why are you still here? Karin called me to find out what was taking so long."

Rukia looked at her watch - something she hadn't actually done in a while, come to think of it - and swore underneath her breath. She had gotten so wrapped up in the mess on her new desk that she had totally lost track of time. The 3rd division was in complete chaos - there was so much to do and she couldn't believe that her very first act as captain would be to go on maternity leave, so she had kept telling herself _I'll go right after I finish this last thing..._

And now she was about three hours late. Ichigo was really going to give it to her.

Flustered, Rukia put down the stack of unsigned paychecks. It was unconscienceable that someone could have failed to sign these before now, but she realized that they would just have to wait. It irritated her, but it was better than-

"Oi, c'mon! Shiba-san and Kuchiki-ojisan are waiting at the main senkai gate!"

"Nii-sama and Nee-sama? !" Rukia gasped. "What?"

"They're coming with us. You didn't know?"

"No!" Rukia answered, mortified. "They didn't tell me!"

"Yeah, well, _hurry up!_" Hitsugaya barked.

"Why in the world are they coming?" Rukia answered as she swiftly made her way to the door.

"Yuzu's cooking, I'm sure," Toshiro muttered mockingly, knowing of Byakuya's secret adoration of the young chef's talents. "And Shiba-san probably can't wait to tease her brother about becoming a grandfather. Now get moving, before Karin kills me!"

"Alright, alright! I'm coming!"

-:-

Momo arrived back into her private quarters, feeling exhausted. Her initial enthusiasm for hunting down Matsumoto's torturer had faded quite a bit, and she collapsed on her bed to go to sleep. The place was a mess, with laundry and unwashed dishes and random books and scrolls in various disarray all throughout; but she could not be troubled to even think of it at the moment. She was bone-tired, and both the mental and physical strain were oddly overpowering.

What am I even doing, she wondered to herself. I'm chasing after a ghost. I don't even know what this guy looks like. And to now get this new lieutenant Rantao-san involved? Who knew what Momo should tell her, and how Momo could even approach her about it? _'Say, by the way, my sword told me you could help me.'_ This was simply getting too complicated, and Momo's patience and enthusiasm were starting to rapidly decay.

Momo was torn between feelings of guilt, despair, and indifference. On the one hand, she wanted to avenge Matsumoto - on the other hand, she was fatigued and honestly didn't know how long she could continue to chase after some human while neglecting her duties as lieutenant. It wasn't like Hitamake could cover for her; he wasn't even in her division anymore.

Another part of her felt like she was giving up; abandoning her cause for selfish reasons. She felt ashamed that she would quit so easily. Yet another piece of her felt like it was pointless - avenging Matsumoto wouldn't bring her back from the coma she was now in.

And yet another part of her didn't give a fuck about anyone anymore.

Momo was miserable. She had warring voices in her head; and the voice of reason was the one she trusted less. Tobiume and Kyouka Suigetsu were a constant battle inside her soul - Tobiume's angry, impulsive, unyielding and unforgiving scorn against Kyouka Suigetsu's intellectual, calm, clear-headed demeanor mixed with lofty ambition and egotistic smugness. She didn't trust herself, felt herself spiralling out of control, and had no idea how to get a grip.

According to the calendar above her bed, Momo was supposed to go to Isane's wedding tomorrow. She knew she should go but didn't want to. She just didn't care about anything anymore.

A subtle odor of lavender hung in the air, and instead of providing a soothing effect, it irritated her. It was laced with a sharp, tangy taste that twinged her nostrils as the odor drifted in through her window. Some members of the 5th must have been burning incense to hide the smell of pot again. She was going to have to read them the riot act when she got her hands on their mangy little necks.

I need a smoke, Momo thought. And booze. A lot of booze. An entire barrel of booze.

She thought of Morgan. Momo envied him. His whole life seemed clear to him. He knew exactly what he wanted, how he wanted it, and why he wanted it. No confusion, no self-doubt, no self-recrimination or self-disgust. Momo wondered if she could ever understand herself that well.

Probably not, she figured. Maybe I should just kill myself.

Drained in more ways than one, Momo's thoughts wandered aimlessly as she changed out of her uniform, stripped off her undergarments, and settled into a light sleeping robe which she was too tired to even tie closed. Even though she thought it was foolish and stupid, she was comparing Izuru and Morgan in her head - why this particular stream of consciousness had seized her, she was unable to answer. Wrapped in thought, she absentmindedly put her zanpakutou on the sword rack by her bed - but when she looked up at it, alone on the wooden notches, she changed her mind and took it into bed with her.

Even though it seemed so contradictory, with its warring voices and raging opinions, something possessed Momo enough to compel her to hold it closely to her bosom. Soon, Momo's entire frame was wrapped around the sheathed katana; cradling it between her breasts and legs like it was a teddy bear; and she began to cry.

Crying forlornly, lonely and afraid of herself, and depressed with a gloomy, morose guilt of failure - for what, she could not quite explain - Momo drifted off into a half-sleeping state of tear-induced stupor, the lavenderishly-disguised air pushing her sleep into a state of self-detachment. She clutched her zanpakutou tighter and tighter, until her knuckles turned white; and the oddly-comfortable pressure of the scabbard between her thighs was distracting enough to break her unending stream of wimpering. Momo crossed her ankles over the end in an attempt to clamp herself into a fetal position. Pausing her shadowy-headed misery enough to wipe her eyes, Momo took a deep breath and pulled a blanket over her legs, which had begun to chill in the cold night air that was entering through the open window.

Falling asleep quickly, Momo suffered fevered dreams of longing. Longing to be something, to be someone; to be for something or for someone. When she awoke only an hour later, she was drenched in cold sweat, and felt unnerved in the extreme; as though she was only a guest in her own body. Her body itself was screaming for attention, and Momo rose to use the bathroom; failing to have done so before. Relieving herself in a drowsy draught, the lavender was fainter now and failed to disguise the pungent odor; but its soothing effect took hold anyway and Momo desired nothing more than to return to slumber.

Frazzled, rattled, and in bad need of a nicotine fix but too tired to fish around her messy room for something to smoke, Momo went back to bed; cradling Tobiume/Kyouka Suigetsu again. Again, the presence of her manifested soul close to her flesh was comforting, no matter that her soul was messier than her room. The soft leather of the hilt carressed pleasantly against the inside crevice of her bosom, and the resin scabbard, tucked tightly between her thighs, kissed her delicately with a possession of warm and eager fuzziness. In time, the fuzziness opened into somnambulance, and Momo returned to the world of dreams, full of flowers.

-:-

Ichigo's stomach clenched in anticipation as the senkai gate materialized inside Kurosaki Isshin's living room. He was so eager to see Rukia and have her there with him. Everyone had been waiting for her.

He was surprised to see Byakuya and Auntie K come through first, followed by Toshiro and -

Then his eyes buggered. "Rukia?"

"Ichigo! Sorry I'm so late! I'm so sorry!"

He just stood there with a derp face. "Uh, what's with the haori?"

Rukia's face went red. Perhaps it would have been wiser to leave it at the office before she came. "Well, uh... I was just promoted to captain of the 3rd," she bumbled.

"...When?"

Rukia gulped. "Um, three days ago."

_"WHAT? !"_

-:-

_The next morning _

"Do I really have to wear this?"

"It's tradition, Ichihime-sama. Heads of House are supposed to wear yellow to weddings."

"Fuck tradition," she grumbled. "I'm going to be proposed to over a knifecase. Tradition can kiss my hairy-moled ass."

_Hey, that's degrading!_ Shiji whined. _I prefer the word 'scabbard' or 'sheath'._

Shaddup, she mentally snapped back. I didn't say I wouldn't like it!

"Supposedly, your father liked wearing a yellow kimono, Ichihime-sama."

"Wonderful," she grimaced. "Burn it."

Makina laughed. "Now, now, Ichihime-sama, you can't go burning everything your father liked. He liked you, after all."

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled again, allowing Makina to adjust the collar of her kimono. "Still, yellow? I'm going to stick out like a bruised banana."

"Banana, perhaps; bruised, I am sure not, Ichihime-sama."

Ichihime pointed to her face, but Makina dismissed her with a hand wave. "If I may, Ichihime-sama - enough with the self-pity. If we were in a cliche-ridden movie, that would be my cue to slap you across the face and tell you how ridiculous you're being. You're a powerful woman about to become engaged to someone who loves you. Fretting about a birthmark is really quite silly at this point."

"It's not a birthmark," she whined, trying to escape rebuke.

"Ichihime-sama," Makina intoned, "the rest of the world doesn't know that."

Ichihime sighed, resigned. "I hate yellow."

"You look nice, Ichihime-sama."

"You're just saying that because I write you a big fat paycheck."

"I am not!" Makina pouted akimbo.

"I'm teasing, I'm teasing, take a joke, Makina-chan," Ichihime grumbled. "How's my hair?"

"A touch disheveled, since you've been so fussy," Makina admitted, throwing in her own sass for a change. "I should really redo your braid."

Ichihime hauled a chair over and sat down melodramatically. "Well, then, hup to it."

Makina's fingers flew through Ichihime's hair as she hastily attempted to put the Head of House's royal hair back into place before her suitor would come to take her to the wedding.

Sure enough, the doorman's attendant informed them that Nikayui Adame had arrived at the Banzo Estate gate.

Makina picked up the pace. "...If I may, Ichihime-sama."

"What?" Ichihime answered in an unusually introspective and personal way.

"Are you nervous, Ichihime-sama?"

"...A little."

"Excited?"

Ichihime sighed, tilting her head downwards to make the end of her braid more accessible. "Maybe a bit in denial."

"Why?"

Ichihime's voice was soft and fragile. "I'm... I'm scared that it will happen all over again."

"And what if it does?" Makina challenged. "Are you going to crumble and die like an infatuated teenager? Wither and despair like your life hinged on it? Fall into depression over a mere man? What happened to the wise Head of House and the esteemed shinigami lieutenant I serve, who seized control of her House and rewrote its destiny? Would that woman collapse if some boy let you go? Or is it simply that you're afraid to admit that you've been self-obsessed with the past for all of these years, and the idea that someone loves you scares you - because it means you deserve to love yourself, too?"

Makina paused, nervous for her master's response. She anticipated retribution - as much as they were friendly, Ichihime was her master and Makina had crossed a line. Hell, she hadn't crossed it as much as driven a truck right through it.

Ichihime was quiet and still. She could feel Makina's fingers threaded in the end of her braid, on hold; waiting for her master to provide a response. Something. Anything.

After a good long moment of thought - deep thought, truly deep thought that was deeper than Ichihime had thought of in a good long while - she finally spoke up. "Say, Makina-chan."

"...Yes, Ichihime-sama?"

"How many times did you practice that little speech?"

Makina smiled. "Thirteen times, I think. Not including the many poor attempts at writing it."

Ichihime chuckled, but it slowly built into a bursting giggle and eventually a rumbling laugh. "Makina-chan, I don't pay you enough."

Her majordomo laughed. "Yes you do," she answered, making sure she kept the gag going. She had a feeling that it would be a recurring joke for a long time. "Now shoo, Ichihime-sama. Go to your Prince Charming. He needs his Princess."

-:-

Nikayui Adame waited with bated breath. He was unbelievably nervous. Proposing to a woman was challenging enough - maybe he would fumble his lines, maybe he wouldn't appear confident, maybe it wouldn't be romantic enough - there was so much that he could screw up to ruin the moment.

And instead of a ring - a nice, convenient, simple-to-present, classically-romantic ring - he had to present a scabbard. As if this wasn't complicated enough.

The case under his arm felt heavy by now, and his palms were sweating. Adame couldn't get rid of the butterflies in his stomach. What if she hated it? What if she regretted her decision to carve up the majestic Uryam into itty bitty pieces? What if she wasn't quite ready for this?

What if she had second thoughts?

What if she would only say yes because after being jilted, the idea of marriage was so dreamy that she did it for the sake of overcoming history, rather than just because of him?

These were questions that were too late to answer now.

Finally, at last, the door to the waiting room opened, and a footman came out. "Presenting the Honorable Head of House, Princess Banzo Ichihime-no-kimi!" he announced formally.

When Ichihime emerged, Adame could hardly believe his eyes. Ichihime was glorious; glorious and gloriously beautiful. She was in an elaborate yellow kimono, the traditional attire for a Head of House to a wedding, and it looked fabulous on her. Her hair, a feathery platinum blond that any woman in any dimension would have died to have, was woven beautifully and decorated with gilded orchids. Her aura was brimming with a regal something; a charm he could not even quite describe. Flagged by her majordomo, she stood at attendance, waiting for him to initiate.

It was admittedly daunting to stand before such a beautiful woman.

He bowed. "It is my honor to escort you, Princess Ichihime-no-kimi."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh give me a break, Adame-san. It's just me."

He straightened up, and then, inexplicably, he began to relax a bit. "I always liked that about you," he chirped.

Dear Kami, he is so handsome, Ichihime thought. "Are you ready to go?"

"N-n-no," he stuttered.

Ichihime giggled. "Adame-san? Did you just stutter? The eloquent and charming Nikayui Adame-dono stuck struggling to find his words? My, my; I think we must call a doctor, Hoshimura-majordomo."

Makina knew that in company with most nobles, her smirk would be considered gravely offensive, but Adame was another story altogether.

Adame chuckled. "You look wonderful."

Ichihime's smile indicated that she accepted his compliment even though her verbal response would have implied otherwise. "Stop being silly. I look like an overgrown banana."

"But I like bananas," he chimed, back into the comfort zone of harmless flirting.

"I would continue this little metaphor but I fear it would devolve into unintended innuendo about the best manner in which to remove the peel. So perhaps we should stop talking about fruit altogether," she laughed.

"And here I was wondering about all of the romantic metaphors I could make out of passionfruit."

"Aren't you a fruit smoothie," Ichihime smiled, but then broke into a snickering titter. "Okay, that one was _baaaaddd._"

Adame laughed, but realized afterwards that he was back to square one. It was, uh, time. "Ichihime-sama, I, uh... I-"

"-can't seem to find out how to say 'Will you marry me'?" she offered snarkily.

He blushed. "Ah, perhaps," Adame admitted meekly.

Ichihime took his free hand and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Yes," she whispered in his ear. "Yes. Yes, Nikayui Adame, I will marry you. Because one day I know I will love you. And anyone who could do that to me is the one person I want to spend eternity with."

His words were quiet, only enough to cross the few inches separating their faces. "I thought it was the man who was supposed to propose," he smirked.

"As I told your father," she smiled back, "I tend to defy convention."

He admired her tender, soft expression with deep happiness. "Convention is overrated," he answered sincerely.

Slowly, he stepped back to give him room to hold the box in front of her. He carefully undid the latch and opened it, revealing his gift of betrothal. "Do you like it?"

Ichihime's mouth was gaping. Before her was the most mesmerizing treasure she had ever beheld - a sheath for Shiji, carved and polished out of a black pearl that radiated a chromatic luster as though it teemed with a life of its own. It was simultaneously black as midnight, yet glowing like neon. There was nothing in written or spoken language that could describe the absolute marvel of what the Nikayui family had done to that hunk of oyster spit. It was far beyond anything that Ichihime ever would have been able to dream of expecting.

And with it were matching bangle-bracers. Spectacularly crafted, amazingly beautiful adornments for her wrists. She had not expected anything but the sheath, but the bracers were stunning. Ichihime instantly cherished them. There was nothing like them in the world.

"Adame-san..." Ichihime said breathlessly, almost in shock. "This - these - these are beyond description," she said. "They are the most incredible things I have ever seen in my entire life."

He smiled warmly, his usual charm settling in. "Go on," he encouraged her. "Take them."

Ichihime reached out from behind her and pulled out Shiji (in his black lacquered sheath) and held it in front of her for a moment.

_Woot! New digs!_ Shiji hollered excitedly.

You little yellow-bellied oni, she laughed at him. Don't you live in a cave?

_Yeah, but that cave looks a hell of a lot nicer than this one!_

You smartass.

_Hey, can I leave my piehole open this time?_

For just a little bit, she chuckled internally.

Ichihime withdrew the brass tanto from the lacquered sheath and handed her craftsmanship to Makina. Reaching for the black pearl scabbard, she allowed her fingers to run across its smooth, polished surface. It was flawless. Flawless in every way.

Slowly and with great pride and deliberation, she lifted the tanto scabbard and gently slid her zanpakutou in it. It was a perfect fit, and the end locked into place as though it had been molded around the zanpakutou from the very start. A warm glow radiated through her soul; like it was finally home.

It was perfectly perfect perfection. Ichihime had never treasured anything more in her entire life.

"May I?" Adame offered, pointing to the bracers.

"Please!" she said eagerly, carefully placing her newfound treasure in the knot of her obi. She gestured to Makina, who instantly took the cue to retie the back of the obi knot in such a way as to show off as much of the new scabbard as possible.

Meanwhile, Adame gently cuffed her right and left hands. They must have been infused with some sort of pliable-force kido, since despite the hard outer surface, they did not restrict her flexibility or range of motion at all. She twisted her hands this way and that, and she could barely tell that they were there - but they were, and their splendor was phenomonal.

"Do you like them?" he asked again.

Ichihime seized his face with both hands. "I love them," she whispered, and kissed him.

-:-

"I must admit, I have never been to a commoner's wedding," Adame noted.

Ichihime was sitting next to him in the horse-drawn carriage on the way to the hall. She had scooted up close to him and was happily holding his hand. Under most circumstances, she would have found a horse-drawn carriage to be excessive posh. Today, though, she was in an unusually romantic mood and she fancied the bout of luxury for a little bit. "Neither have I."

"It must be unusual to have a Head of House attend one," he thought out loud.

She gave him a curious look. "Do you not wish to go?"

He shook his head with a puzzled response. "No, of course I wish to go. You are friends with the bride, aren't you? It would be rude to not attend."

"No," Ichihime admitted. "I'm not really close with Lieutenant Ceiling-Bonker. But she invited all of the lieutenants."

"'Ceiling-Bonker'?" he asked, completely confused.

"Eh, Yachiru-chan's nickname for her."

"For who?" he asked, confused. "And who's Yachiru?"

Ichihime shook her head. "I forget sometimes that you're not a shinigami," she chuckled. "The bride is Kotetsu Isane. She's 7_'_3_"_. That's why the vice captain of the 11th - Kusajishi Yachiru - calls her Ceiling-Bonker."

His eyes went wide. "Did you say-"

"Yes," she laughed. "Seven-foot-three."

"That's... _tall._"

"It's a Kotetsu thing," Ichihime shrugged. "Her sister, Lieutenant of the 8th Kotetsu Kiyone, is also tall; 6_'_4_"_ or something, I don't remember."

"Is the groom also tall?" Adame wondered.

"No, Yamada-san is actually rather puny, to be honest. It's cute."

He laughed. "They say opposites attract, I suppose."

"Indeed," she smiled, and squeezed his hand.

-:-

By noble standards, Yamada Hanataro's and Kotetsu Isane's event was a very small wedding. The guests included most of the top seats of the 4th division; save for 3rd Seat Iemura who was invited but could not come, considering that the captain, vice captain, and 4th seat weren't exactly available today in the main infirmary. Other guests included close friends of the extended Kotetsu family: Kyoraku Shunsui and his date, Rantao Kiku. Also in attendance was Shihoin Tokine and her guest Kyon Kandros, a request from Unohana Taicho so that Toki-san would have the opportunity to meet most of the members of the 4th in a social context. The small size was a necessity, given that neither Isane nor Hanataro could afford much.

Nonetheless, Ise Nanao had taken great care to stretch every last available penny. Nanao had been asked to plan the wedding and knew that Isane could not avoid inviting the other lieutenants, of which including Nanao's sister Rukia and the even more prestigious Head of House Princess Banzo Ichihime. For House Nobles to be present at a commoner's wedding was an extraordinary circumstance. While Nanao knew neither of them cared about such pretense, neither Nanao nor Isane thought it proper to overlook the fact that members of the Four Houses arriving at a commoner wedding was an incredible honor. So Nanao had gone to great lengths to insure that despite the small size of under fifty people, it would still be a formally grand affair, even if that meant squeezing every last trick out of every last dime.

Nanao was not surprised that Rukia would not be in attendance. She had her own celebration to attend. Nanao would have obviously preferred that the timing of events would have lended itself to both occasions, but real life was not always so convenient. Case-in-point, Komamura Taicho would have loved to be present to see Unohana Taicho officiate; but he himself had to stay home to watch Kitsune. (Kitsune was not the kind of boy one could leave with babysitters.) Nonetheless, Banzo Fukutaicho would be arriving shortly, and Nanao wanted to make sure that her presence would be appropriately noted and appreciated for the honor of hosting her.

Double-checking and triple-checking with the doorman (Banzo-dono not here yet - _aargh_), Nanao then went to make sure everyone was in place. Nanao's fellow bridesmaid Kiyone, who was wearing a matching lilac kimono, was escorting guests to their seats. Jushiro-san and Yamada Seinosuke-sama, in their navy dress uniforms as the groom's men, were doing the same. Unohana Taicho was already waiting up at the center stage. At first, Nanao had been concerned that Shihoin Tokine would also need to be acknowledged as an attending House Noble, but Unohana respectfully requested that she simply be seated up towards the front and off to the side, without a need for any further fanfare. Nanao could see the back of her head, its short purplish-tinted bob decorated with a single orchid, and she seemed to be okay at the moment. She looked nice in her yellow House kimono. Kyon, who was sitting next to her and dressed in a classic American navy suit, caught her glance and returned a '_we're alright_' gesture.

Nanao looked at her watch. There was still a reasonable chunk of time before the reception would need to start, but she was mildly perturbed. Banzo-dono wasn't late... she just wasn't excessively early. Irritated nonetheless, Nanao dialed Hisagi on her cell. "Shuu?"

"Relax, Nan-chan, relax," he chuckled. "I'm sure they'll be here soon."

Nanao breathed. "Okay, fine... Is reception all set up? Does it look nice?"

Shuuhei shook his head amusingly. Nanao was such a perfectionist. "It looks perfectly grand. The same way it did when you checked in on it two minutes ago." He then surprised her by blowing on the back of her neck, making Nanao jump.

_"Ahh!"_ She didn't realize he had made his way into the ceremonial garden while she was on the phone with him.

"Lighten up," he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Have a good time. Everything will be fine. Kotetsu-san doesn't want you to spend her whole wedding wound up like a clock."

Nanao forced herself to breathe deeply as she let herself soak in his embrace for a moment. He was so good to her. "Thanks," she whispered, turning her head to kiss him on the cheek. Her cellphone then flashed a message: the Banzo House's carriage was arriving. "They're here. Go sit down."

Hisagi smiled and took his place up front on the left, where he had a reserved seat as a bridesmaid's guest.

Nanao signalled to the other members of the wedding party to go take their places, and they all came to the door at the back of the hall. Nanao gestured for Kiyone and Seinosuke to go prepare and escort the bride and groom from their respective locations.

"Always on top of everything, aren't you," Jushiro teased her as they stood waiting for the Head of House and her guest to arrive.

Nanao grinned. "I suppose if they ever kick me out of the Kido Corps, I can open up a business as a wedding planner."

"Shunsui wanted me to tell you that he thinks you look great," Jushiro added.

Nanao rolled her eyes. "Papa's told me at least seven times by now. I swear I think Rantao-san is jealous."

He laughed. "Oh, he's just being a proud father. It's amazing how he's grown up, hasn't he?"

Nanao laughed. There was truth to it.

-:-

"I hope we're not late," Ichihime said as Adame helped her out of the carriage.

Adame shrugged. "We're just guests."

Ichihime rolled her eyes. "Knowing Ise-senpai, she likely won't let the wedding proceed until we're there."

"Well, then we must hurry," he smiled, offering his arm as they made their way from the gate and into the catering hall's courtyard.

"Too bad Kuchiki-senpai and Kurosaki-dono aren't here. It would be so much more bearable if they were here to suffer the grand treatment along with us."

"Kuchiki Rukia-dono and her husband?" Adame asked. "I thought you said that all of the lieutenants were invited."

"Oh, they were planning on coming," Ichihime remarked. "But you know how it is. A new baby disrupts everything."

"A new baby?" Adame asked startled. "I hadn't heard - when?"

"A few days ago. They're off to see Kurosaki-dono's family. Supposedly a big shebang, too. Even Taicho-sama and Shiba-sama are going."

"Congratulations to them," Adame smiled. "It comes as a surprise. I know that she is rather petite, but-"

Ichihime was befuddled. "Huh?"

Adame returned an equally confused look. "Did you even know that she was expecting? I would have imagined it would be more obvious, at least towards the end of her pregnancy."

A dawn of realization hit Ichihime. She continued to forget that Adame, who wasn't a shinigami and therefore didn't run in her social circle, wasn't in the know. "Oh, I think you misunderstood. Kuchiki-senpai was never pregnant. She adopted an abandoned baby she found on patrol. Kind of like those Western stories of the stork bringing you a baby in a basket - really wonderful, isn't it?"

Adame seemed uneasy. "They... adopted?"

Ichihime looked at her fiance (a word which still quite hadn't sunken in yet) with an intense gaze of curiousity. "What is the problem?"

"Problem?" he asked, a bit dazed.

"Yes - is there a problem, Adame-san?"

He hesitated and looked askance. "I... uh... I thought adoption was generally frowned upon in noble circles."

Ichihime's eyes narrowed. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Adame fidgeted. "Never mind, it's not important."

"Adame-san," Ichihime began, a bit annoyed. "What has gotten into you? You're acting weird."

"Forget it," he answered meekly.

Now Ichihime was peeved. "What is it? Do you disapprove?"

He breathed deeply and raised his eyebrows quickly, as though he was trying to dodge the question. "It's not my place to comment on it, really."

"Hey," Ichihime said sternly, moving in front of him sharply so as to force him to look at her. "You have a problem with that?"

_Calm down,_ Shiji told her. _You're getting worked up. That won't end well._

Ichihime was agitated but took a deep breath and tried to relax. "Adame-kun," she spoke softly. "Talk to me. What's the big deal? She wants a baby," Ichihime explained. "She's been dying for years to have one. What's the big deal?"

He looked askance, despite her hands on his arms trying to keep him focused on her. "It _is_ a big deal, Ichihime-sama."

"Why? Why does such a silly thing bother you?" she asked, frustrated.

He looked back, and this time, he was irritated. "It's not silly," he insisted sternly, an unusually strong display from him. "I'm an Upper Court Noble by nothing more than birth. Without that, I'm a lower-middle-class businessman with no future and no promises of a better life for my children. The only reason I can marry you is because my blood is worth more than my name, and certainly a lot more than my empty purse. How can you not take this seriously?"

"As if I would like you any less if you were from common stock?" Ichihime challenged, letting her temper get the best of her.

"That has nothing to do with it!" he retorted, exasperated. "Despite what I think, everyone in Sereitei knows that marriage isn't about love! It's about birth, and entitlement, and a life that favors one over another based on who their mother and father are."

"And you think little Hikaru-chan's parents are anyone but Kuchiki-sama and Kurosaki-dono, just because she's adopted?" Ichihime fired back, irritated.

"What I think is irrelevant."

"Is that your solution? To cower from the system?"

"That _system_," he answered, throwing the word right back at her, "is what has given my family the influence to keep itself from the brink of poverty, time and time again. What do you know about a noble's honor? You have so much of it that you will never know what it is like to live without it - and you've even spent your whole life running away from it!"

Now _that_ pissed her off. "All of a sudden, you care so much about your fancy name and your fancy family tree? !" Ichihime shot back. "Since when did you climb up on some high-and-mighty horse and care so much about your nobility? I suppose the next thing you're going to tell me is that this commoner's wedding is insulting to your Upper Court credentials. Well I'm sorry we had to degrade ourselves to come _to some lame street rat's nuptials!_"

"Um, I, uh, guess I came at a bad time," Nanao interrupted awkwardly. "Uh... um... wh-why don't you take a minute?"

Ichihime looked up to find Ise-senpai staring at them, wide-eyed and awkward. Aw _shit._

_Told you so,_ Shiji sighed.

Aw fuck. I would tell you to shut up, but this time it's totally my fault.

_Told you so,_ Shiji sighed again.

Aw, fuck. Shit, shit, fuck, _shit._

-:-

Momo awoke with a groggy groan. It must have been late morning, nearly noon; because the bright sun was piercing through a window right into her eyes; inducing a searing headache. She was twitching, in badly need of a smoke; and despite the bright light, she was chilly. Her head, skin, and muscles felt intensely numb; like she was coated in concrete and her head was filled with a thick, viscous sludge. Her ears were clogged and congested. She felt an uncomfortable sensation in her groin, though, and the absence of her zanpakutou nestled up against the sensitivities of her pelvis suddenly kickstarted her attention.

Sitting up quickly, she was startlingly yanked back down to the mattress; a disturbing way to discover that she had been chained to a hospital bed. She had hundreds of tubes and wires connected to her everywhere. Her senses returned, and Momo began to realize that she was likely about to become the victim of torture under the guise of medical treatment. Suction cups were glued to her breasts, a catheter had been inserted into her urethra, and there were dozens of electrodes taped all over her body. A ring of wire-laden accupuncture needles had been stuck in her torso and were clearly tapped into her saketsu and hakusui. Adrenaline flooded into her and she snapped fully awake, eyes peering around until they rested on a well-dressed man who was approaching from a corner of the room.

"Hello, Hinamori," the man grinned. "My name is Q. A friend of mine told me that you were looking for me!"

Momo's eyes quivered in terror as he opened a drawer and pulled out her zanpakutou from a drawer beside the bed. The sensation of a stranger's hands on her zanpakutou was horrifyingly intimate, a violation of her being; an extremely invasive act of disregard for her private self. She tried to scream at him, but no sound could come out.

"Oh, don't bother trying to say anything," Q dismissed. "I've deflated your lungs and temporarily paralyzed your pulmonary nerves so you can't inhale. Your blood is being oxygenated externally by a pump underneath your bed. Much easier this way. No air in your lungs means you can't make any noise. I really don't like to hear all the screaming, you see. It hurts my ears."

Q set down her zanpakutou on a table opposite her line of sight, and Momo quaked in abject horror as he picked up a chisel and hammer from a toolbox.

"That poison gas is really something, huh? Effective stuff - it takes a while to really seep into your system, but once you're under, you could sleep through anything. Obviously, considering all the work I did on you this morning to get you ready. Too bad it's so hard to mask - I still haven't figured out whether lavender or vanilla is better. Although I didn't have any vanilla this time - not in season in this dimension right now, you see. Of course, if Sheldon can find that little trinket I'm looking for, I suppose I'll be able to make as much vanilla as I want. That would be nice. I like vanilla. Ice cream; in my coffee. In my poison gas. Great stuff, you should know."

Momo struggled, but it was useless. His sterile hand moved to grip her zanpakutou tight, and she was powerless to move with her soul in his hands. He must have had significant reiatsu to suppress her like that.

"I'm so glad you're awake. Now we can finally proceed. Did you know that you have such wonderful facilities here in Central 46?" he said cheerily. "They have some amazing equipment in this private lab, I really must say. Top-of-the-line reiatsu meters! It's wonderful! I didn't have to waste any time building one myself. I got your spectral ratios, reishi saturation, spirit density, everything - utterly fantastic. Data is really precise, too. I got your entire workup within minutes! In fact, according to your readouts, you should be much stronger than the last lieutenant I had to work with; which is great. That Sasakibe fellow died way too quickly; it really put a hamper on my research. Anyway, enough banter - let's begin the zanpakutou disassembly, shall we?"

* * *

_Thanks in advance for your reviews! (You're going to leave reviews, right? ;D) I'm sure you have much to comment on here. Next chapter: The wedding continues. As do other things._


	37. Accosted at Every Turn

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Translator's note:** A quick refresher on some subtleties in honorifics, at least as used in this story. The -no-kimi suffix is best understood as "Your Majesty", and is considered a very, very high form of honorific. In the Bleach universe, it would only be used for the four Heads of House. The honorific -dono is used for generic nobility or other stations of honor. The -sama honorific is greater than -dono and can sometimes imply a more personal level of respect. (Servants, for example, will always address masters using -sama rather than -dono.) The regular suffix -san could be used for anyone. __-kun, _-chan, -tan and the modern -rin tend to be cutesy, personal and/or affectionate.

* * *

_Nanao surveyed the young princess before her. She knew her in more casual circumstances - after all, she was technically Nanao's cousin twice removed - but in a professional capacity, Nanao was starting with a clean slate of first impressions._

_Banzo Sarashina was a breathtakingly beautiful woman. She had the traditional straight, feathery platinum blonde hair of the Banzo bloodline, but unlike her mother, she let it hang loose down to the small of her back. She had highly angular features: narrow slanted eyes that shimmered a majestic silvery blue, a oval face that ended in a sharp chin, and her telltale elfin ears that stuck out to an almost arrowheaded point._

_Despite the fact that Nanao continued to wear a shinigami shihakusho underneath her blue haori, the Kido Corps did not use the same uniform as the Gotei 13. Banzo-san had completely bypassed uniforms altogether, save for a blue cape that was customary among the Kido Corps elite. Underneath it, she wore a simple white medieval-era dress, the kind with a lace corset underneath her modest bosom. Altogether, Sarashina had a lithe and slender build, which only contributed to the constant comparison to the mythological elvish race. Her zanpakutou - a small, ornate silver and pewter stilletto with a red garnet in the crossguard - was tucked into her white cloth belt without a sheath._

_Unlike her mother's more casual, laid-back presence, Banzo Sarashina was a dignified, elegant lady; with a certain respect for her noble position. Unlike her jovial older heartthrob of a brother Vojiro, Sarashina was a serious woman; although she was known to be approachable and relatively social. She had good rapport with Rukia-san's like-minded lieutenant, Shiba Kanchi, although she tended to be more reserved in her emotions. Like Nanao, she had a beautiful voice (but mezzo as opposed to Nanao's alto). She was not as well known for it, however, since it lacked the power, finesse, and range of Lieutenant Kuchiki Hisako; with which Banzo-san had a supposedly respectful-yet-impersonal relationship with._

_First impressions were important, Nanao knew. And to be honest, Sarashina looked more like an ivory-tower daughter of fortune than a soldier with grit and gut. But first impressions could be deceiving. Banzo Sarashina was the second child of Banzo Ichihime - and Nanao knew Banzo Taicho well enough to know that there was no way Sarashina-san would be a naive, shielded simpleton. The children of Banzo Ichihime were not raised to be fools that knew nothing of a hard life._

_Nanao had been impressed with Sarashina's file. It wasn't surprising; she was a descendant of the Four Houses and thus possessed great reiatsu by mere genetics. Even so, she had done well in the Kido Corps, like most members of the Banzo Clan. Ichihime had been the exception; historically, the Royal House of Banzo had many of its members in elite positions of the Kido Corps. Sarashina's grandfather and great grandfather had been Major Generals of the Kido Corps prior to Nanao's assassination of Banzo Tanabi._

_Offhand, Nanao wondered what Sarashina would have thought about that if she knew._

_Banzo Sarashina's file indicated that she had exceptional talent in medical kido. She had originally done a stint in the 4th division, but had been recommended to transfer to the Kido Corps from Captain Kotetsu Isane. Sarashina had been in the Kido Corps for the past fifty or so years; eventually reaching the position of 8th seat. There, her file indicated a total mastery of bakudo all the way up into the level 90s, including advanced kido chaining, wordless casting, and even kido fusion - something beyond the reach of 95% of kido practitioners. Even Rukia-san's kido fusion skills were very limited. More impressive was that Sarashina had actually studied Nanao's field of bahudo, and had mastered up to the level 30s. It was an accomplishment that only a very limited number of Kido Corps members had achieved. The previous lieutenant, Fuwu Yashitori, had barely been able to cast the level 20 bahudo spells, and only under great duress._

_Banzo's hado skill was not as impressive. Sarashina's file noted that she was strong through the level 60s and needed incantations for the 70s, and was not prepared to use level 80 hado spells in battle. Her file noted that she was able to successfully cast a hado #88 with an incantation in training, although Nanao had seen it. It wasn't very potent. Considering Sarashina's zanpakutou, however, it was easy to dismiss Sarashina's hado deficiencies. If Nanao had a sigma zanpakutou like Sarashina did, she wouldn't need that kind of hado firepower either._

_Nanao noticed that the Banzo princess had been still this entire time. I see she has patience, Nanao thought. _

_A notable virtue, Nanao's zanpakutou Saya commented. _

_"Banzo Sarashina-dono," Nanao began._

_The elvish princess bowed respectfully. "Ise Shosho."_

_"Your application to the elite extermination squad, Death Last Standing, was rejected," Nanao stated factually._

_"Yes," Sarashina admitted softly._

_"Death isn't something that's pretty, is it."_

_"...No."_

_"It takes a certain kind of person who can deliver it. That's why you weren't accepted, isn't it? Is that why they didn't let you in?"_

_Sarashina closed her eyes, afraid to look at her superior. "...I was not told why," she replied, "but it is likely the reason."_

_"Why? You're a soldier, aren't you? How could you refuse to kill someone?"_

_Sarashina knew that this was the end of the road for her. It was obvious she wasn't going to get the job, so she might as well be forthcoming. "I don't know that I am capable of that sacrifice."_

_Sacrifice? "And where did you get that credo, Banzo-kun?" Nanao shot at her, deliberately jabbing her with a derogatory suffix just to see how she reacted. "Who taught you that killing another is a sacrifice?"_

_"No one," Sarashina stated firmly, although also a touch shamefully. "But my mother always said that living is far harder than dying. It seems to be a logical extension of that principle."_

_" 'Living is far harder than dying'? Is that what you said?"_

_"That is my mother's wisdom," Sarashina insisted, not daring to suggest she was wise enough to derive such a principle on her own. "And I have yet to find it incorrect."_

_Nanao smiled. Banzo Ichihime was a very wise woman, perhaps one of the wisest ever known. "Then forget about Death Last Standing. A conscience is far more valuable. You'll work for me instead, Lieutenant Banzo, because I want a conscience next to me. Otherwise, I won't have one."_

_~The nomination of Princess Banzo Sarashina to Lieutenant of the Kido Corps, many years into the future _

* * *

_"No, Mom - I really did bang my head on the ceiling this morning. I'm not joking."_  
_~Yamada Makane, son of Yamada Hanataro and Kotetsu Isane_

* * *

_Hikaru sat quietly with Tokine-san. __Tokine-san didn't talk much, but Hikaru had always found a kindred spirit in the 4th division returnee, and Hikaru often invited her for tea. Tokine-san was the only other native sign-language speaker in Hikaru's extended social circle. They were both deep lovers of music, and without doubt, both were very misunderstood people who didn't even understand themselves most of the time. __Like Hikaru, Tokine-san had also suffered the loss of a loved one to the natural differences of aging between humans and shinigami; and Hikaru sought her comfort. _

_[How do you live?] Hikaru asked. _

_[The pain is still fresh in your heart, Hikaru-kun. It will fade.]_

_Hikaru sighed. The -kun suffix just reinforced the messy confusion that so often burdened the young shinigami. [What was it like when your husband died, Shihoin-sama?]_

_[Insufferable,] Toki signed. [Unbearable. It was the third time I lost a man I loved, but he was the only one with whom I had loved in both mind and body, and the only one who loved me more than I loved him. Like you, I could not imagine living.]_

_[Does it still hurt?]_

_"No," Toki said, and Hikaru knew that when Tokine-san chose to speak in the spoken word, it was with an intensity of meaning and emphasis. [Because he gave me three children, all of whom carry his legacy of kindness. Who support me the way he did, who are prime examples of how we wish for the generation after us to surpass us. And that is how I live on - because unlike Kaseira-kun or Trevor-kun, Kyon-kun still lives with me. In his children. In our children. He is still with me.]_

_Hikaru understood the implication, even if it didn't feel right - for many reasons. [Telling me that I am my father does not make me feel better.]_

_[Time is the only treatment for grief, Hikaru-kun. But your father made every effort to spend time with you, and he had to cross dimensions to do it. He was, by my measure, the best father he could be. And you were clearly influenced by him. You can only celebrate the fact that this is clear: as much as you miss him, he loved you far more than you will ever understand. And you should take some solace from that.]_

_[Perhaps,] Hikaru replied, frustrated nonetheless. [Thank you for talking with me, Shihoin-sama.]_

_"Yes."_

_~The early teenage years of Kuchiki Hikaru, struggling to cope with the passing of __Kurosaki Ichigo_

* * *

Nanao darted inside, a pit of discomfort swollen in her chest.

"Everything okay?" Ukitake asked her.

Nanao's demeanor tightened. "Banzo Fukutaicho is here."

"So we can get started, then, right?"

"...I, um, think she needs a moment."

Kiyone caught up to them. "Well? What's taking so long? Nee-chan is getting anxious."

"It seems that we are waiting for Banzo-dono," her husband explained.

"Is she here yet?"

"She's outside," Nanao offered. "But-"

"No, no buts!" Kiyone insisted. "This is my sister's wedding! She's gonna get her ass in here or I'm going to beat it with a stick!"

"Wait, Kiyone-san -"

_"Kiyone!"_

But Kiyone, who occasionally still endured bouts of impulsivity, had already charged out the front door of the meeting hall.

"This is not going to end well," Nanao muttered, facepalming.

Ukitake chuckled. When his wife made up her mind, that was it. There was no turning back. "I don't know. Kiyone has always been good at smacking people around. You never know."

Nanao gave him a cold, gloomy stare. "Like I said: this is _not_ going to end well."

-:-

"Oi, Banzo Fukutaicho!" Kiyone shouted as she came out into the courtyard. "You ready yet?"

Ichihime's face fell. Wonderful. Fucking _wonderful._ They sent out the pushy one.

Kiyone was upon her in a quick flash step. She meant business. "Oi, c'mon - Nee-chan is getting anxious - oh, who's your guest?"

Ichihime sighed. This was terrible timing. "Kotetsu Fukutaicho, this is Nikayui Adame-dono."

Adame looked at Ichihime sideways while he gave a polite bow. "Pleased to meet you."

Aw crap, Ichihime grumbled to herself. That was rude. I should have introduced him as my fiance.

_You're on a roll, aren't you?_ Shiji interjected.

Shut up before I put you on a roll with ketchup and mustard and feed you to a demon, Ichihime retorted.

_That was a lame comeback, Hime-sama._

Yeah, well I'm obviously not at the top of my game right now. And you're not helping.

_Do I ever help?_

Shut. _UP!_

Kiyone was now shaking Ichihime's arm. "C'mon already! Let's go! They are going to call you in and then the wedding procession can begin! What are you waiting for?"

"Kotetsu Fukutaicho, could you give us a minute?" Ichihime grumbled.

"Oh, don't worry, you look fine," Kiyone misinterpreted, and started dragging her by the hand. "C'mon, let's go!"

Ichihime looked back at Adame in order to show him that she was rolling her eyes. He sighed and followed as Ichihime was dragged by the blonde giant into the main building.

-:-

The pair of trumpets by the ceremonial garden entrance blared, catching the attention of the guests. Afterwards, the doorman made his announcement.

"All rise!"

The audience stood from their placemats and faced the door.

"Presenting the Esteemed Head of House, Princess Banzo Fukutaicho-no-kimi, and her escort, the Honorable Sir Nikayui-sama!"

The crowd bowed politely as an extremely awkward Ichihime slowly walked down the isle to the front of the room. She could hear the 'oohs' and 'aahs' and gasps of admiration. Had Ichihime been able to pay attention to them, she would have seen the guests admiring her new bangles and their matching sheath, but she was in another world. Adame was next to her, but she dared not look at him. Her head was humbly looking down to the floor; embarrassed and full of shame. In most circumstances, she would be agitated about such fanfare, but instead, she was agitated with herself and with Adame. What a time for a fight, she muttered to herself. How come he's making such a big deal out of nothing?

_He's not making a big deal out of nothing,_ Shiji answered her, _and you know it._

How could you say that, Shiji! That's awful! What, do you think I'm wrong? Do you think I'm wrong because I believe that Shorty-senpai is free to love anyone she wants, to call anyone she wants her family? For Kami's sake, she's married to a human, calls Glasses-senpai her sister, and she herself is not even a Kuchiki by birth! What does it matter? Do you think I'm wrong? Do you think I should protest her decision?

_Of course not,_ Shiji answered strongly, sparing no ounce of disgust with his master's accusation. _Of course I agree with you that she should be entitled to adopt and love whomever she likes. But you aren't a nobody, Hime-sama; you're a Head of House, and like it or not, you are the last known living member of the Royal Banzo Bloodline. What if you were to do the same? What if you adopted? Would you sacrifice one of the greatest veins of shinigami power that exist in Soul Society? The only reason you even considered approaching the Nikayui family is because you yourself acknowledge that you have a responsibility to your noble duties. You can't pretend like it's irrelevant to you, because it isn't._

Ichihime couldn't believe it, but her eyes began to tear as she and Adame took their place at a set of chairs that were set up for them on the left side at the front. Opposite, on the right, sat Shihoin Tokine (whom Ichihime had not yet met in person) and an oddly dressed man. They were the only four individuals seated in chairs; everyone else was on traditional Japanese floor mats in neat rows in the ceremonial gardens.

_You know I'm right,_ Shiji added. _And I know you know it, because you haven't told me to shut up yet._

Resigned to silence in the face of rebuke, Ichihime was too angry and ashamed to even look at Adame. Instead, she kept her focus trained on the isle where the wedding processional would continue.

-:-

"Presenting the Groom, Yamada Hanataro-sama, escorted by his father, Former Lieutenant Yamada Seinosuke-sama, and brother-in-law-to-be Captain Ukitake Jushiro-dono!" the doorman called.

Ichihime watched with great interest (partially because it was the first time she had been witness to a commoner's wedding ceremony, and partially because that way she wouldn't have to look at Adame) as the tiny man was escorted by his much taller father and the Gotei 13 captain. Seinosuke was carrying a lit candle, and when they arrived at the podium where Unohana Taicho was waiting, Seinosuke lit a small torch on the left.

Hanataro was, for a change, rather handsome. He was wearing a traditional royal blue kimono, and his hair was neatly cut. He was a touch nervous, as he fidgeted with his fingers a bit - but his smile was dignified and eager. His zanpakutou hung at his side and its scabbard was laced in gold chain, similar to the upper noble style that Adame was wearing (although Ichihime knew Adame's katana was simply ceremonial). Hanataro was rather regal and gave off no aura of bumbling klutzitude that he normally carried - in fact, he looked princely, which was admittedly hard to pull off for him.

"Presenting the Bride, Lieutenant Kotetsu Isane-sama, escorted by her sister, Lieutenant Ukitake-Kotetsu Kiyone-sama, and close friend of the bride, Major General Ise Nanao-dono!"

Isane emerged from the doorway (she needed to bend over to get through), with Nanao on her left and Kiyone on her right. Like Seinosuke, Kiyone was carrying a candle as the bride's next of kin. Nanao's lilac kimono was rather modest, and while she had let her hair down, she was still in glasses. Kiyone had, not surprisingly, gone for the blonde bombshell look; with her hair curled and an almost-subtle-but-not-quite-subtle-enough display of tightly-packed cleavage.

But, Ichihime had to admit, Isane outdid them both.

The colossal lieutenant was wearing a very plain, simple, traditional red bride's kimono. A traditional wide scarlet obi matched the look, with Isane's long zanpakutou bound laterally through the knot in the classic feminine style. Isane's silvery-lavenderish hair was pinned up in luscious red roses, and her two long strands of wrapped hair had been rethreaded in red and gold and were crossed in the front. What was surprising was that it had to be the first time Ichihime had ever seen Isane wear makeup - most of it was subtle save for a dark red lipstick. It was a very traditional outfit, but Isane wore it exceptionally well. Her beaming smile was so bright that Ichihime wished she had sunglasses - cliche, but the only way Ichihime could do justice to describe the bride's excitement.

She's so beautiful, Ichihime thought.

_Because today, she thinks she is,_ Shiji commented. _And because she believes it to be, then the world makes it so._

That's some pretty high-falutin' commentary from you, Ichihime sassed.

_Hey, I'm just like you. I'm not dumb, I just look like it,_ he sassed back.

Oh shut up.

Kiyone lit the other torch on the podium, and Hanataro then took Isane's hand. Both of them looked elated. The two bridesmaids and two groomsmen then circled around the happy couple, and then they stood off to the side.

Unohana spoke. "With the blessings of the Ancients, we summon guests to celebrate. We end two journeys and begin one. With the blessings of the Ancients, we invite the blessings of all others."

"By the Ancients, I bless you with happiness," Seinosuke said from the side.

"By the Ancients, I bless you with joy," Kiyone continued.

"By the Ancients, I bless you with harmony," Jushiro said.

"By the Ancients, I bless you with peace," Nanao added.

"With the blessings of the Ancients, we bless you with each other," Unohana continued.

Hanataro withdrew his Hisagomaru and held it out with two hands for Isane to take. "With this, my soul is yours."

Isane gracefully took it from him in her left hand, and in her right, removed Itegumo from the back of her waist. Carefully passing Hanataro her zanpakutou, she placed his katana in the sheath on her back. "I may only take what I can give," she recited in turn as he carefully placed Itegumo in Hisagomaru's scabbard, trying as hard as he could not to fumble it. Itegumo was quite a few inches longer than Hisagomaru, so it stuck out a bit. Isane thought it was cute, and couldn't keep a quiet giggle from escaping.

Hanataro reached his palm forward, and Isane intertwined her fingers in it before he spoke. "In sword and steel, I take you as my wife."

"In blade and bone, I take you as my husband."

Unohana smiled cheerily. "With the blessings of the Ancients, may you be united for all time."

The crowd began to sing the matrimonial cant as the tiny Yamada Hanataro ascended a not-so-small stepstool that his father brought out, just so that he could kiss his brand new wife at her eye level. It was embarassing, but Hanataro was used to being embarassed when it came to just about everything. Kiyone (whose voice was terrible) and Nanao (whose voice was magnificent) stood at Isane's side in their matching kimonos and joined the cant at its reiteration of the chorus. Jushiro and Yamada Seinosuke, Hanataro's father and Unohana's former vice captain, stood behind the groom and joined in as well, although thankfully not too loudly.

Ichihime risked a glance at Adame. He didn't seem to catch it; it appeared that he been studiously focusing his attention on the ceremony. Ichihime wondered if he would ever understand what it was like to hold another's zanpakutou like that. As a shinigami, Ichihime understood the significance of trading zanpakutou. It was to hand someone the most intimate and personal part of you, and ask them to love you for who you were; to cherish even the person's shortcomings and to know that each of you accepted the other as you were. That you loved them. That they loved you. That your souls communicated soul-to-soul; that they were intrinsically bound. The fact that their swords even let another hold them was telling about how comfortable they felt with each other. It may have been a commoner's custom, but Ichihime found it just as deep and inspiring and wondrous as the many noble marriages she had attended, including the ultra-high-class affairs of the three Four Houses weddings of the past decade; Shorty-senpai, Taicho-sama and Yoruichi-obasama.

_You think I'm going to be lonely just because he doesn't have a manifested soulcore, don't you,_ Shiji commented.

Ichihime choked a bit on her own tears. She didn't know why she was crying, but she was just overcome with confusing emotion and didn't know what to think anymore. I'm sorry, Shiji. I don't know how any of this works.

Shiji didn't have a response for that. Ichihime wasn't encouraged by his unexpected speechlessness.

The cant finished, and Unohana gestured off to her left. Ichihime followed the call of attention to the other yellow-kimonoed woman in attendance, who pulled out a small silver tanto with a wooden handle. Ichihime was too far away to hear anything but could see her mumble something, and the tanto seemed to disappear into the palm of her hand.

The tiny Shihoin Tokine (who seemed to be very stiff and nonemotive) waved her arm in a circular arc. To everyone's surprise, hundreds of roses burst forth from the earth of the ceremonial gardens, blanketing the open space with a sea of pinks and reds and whites and yellows. It was a stunning floral display - Ichihime was duly impressed.

_Well, that's one way to keep the florist expenses down,_ Shiji laughed.

The guests in attendance were impressed by the sudden and beautiful flora, and a few began to applaud among their numerous notes of cooing admiration. When Ichihime started clapping, she did not realize that they were looking to her for a cue; and suddenly the applause grew strong and loud.

Oh brother, Ichihime muttered mentally. C'mon, guys, you don't need my permission to clap. Sheesh. I get that you're all deferring to my honor, but c'mon, let's not be stupid here.

She didn't look, but she could hear Adame clapping next to her. Ichihime wondered if it was only because of her, or if he would have done so otherwise.

_Don't be an idiot,_ Shiji whined. _He's clapping because he's impressed, not because you are._

It's a little late, Ichihime sighed back to him. I'm already an idiot today.

_Can I get that in writing?_

Shut up, you yellow-bellied oni.

_Hey, what's wrong with having a yellow belly? I think the color suits me._

Not now, Shiji. Not now. Anytime but now, okay?

_Fine,_ he muttered.

-:-

In order to control the costs of the wedding, Nanao had figured that an elaborate buffet-style reception would appear more grand and cost less than a traditional meal-per-person event of the same formality. For most small commoner weddings, this wasn't such a big deal. In this case, though, Nanao had paid extra attention to detail to make sure that she squeezed every last ounce of fancy that she could, given that there were several upper-class nobles in attendance. (Well, technically, her father Kyoraku Shunsui was an upper-class noble, but he didn't count.)

Ichihime was impressed with the display - but more importantly, it had everything she loved. Ichihime preferred simple food - although she had grown up on the richest, most lavish food that her father could find to be served, the truth was that Ichihime could do just swell with a bowl of rice and soy sauce. One time, someone in her division had her try a bowl of macaroni and cheese, and it was one of the most wonderful things Ichihime had ever consumed. The collection of items at the buffet were aimed at providing for a commoner's sensibilities - sushi, tempura, onigiri, steak bits, marinated chicken, pasta with herbs, bacon-roasted potatoes, salads of all types. None of that weird "fried dragon's eye served in sweatbread cream" or "goose liver patte with flying-fish caviar soaked in steamed lizard claws" or "calamari marinated in a blend of exotic mountain goat milk on a bed of peeled diamond locust legs" or other insanities that were supposedly called delicacies.

Unfortunately, Ichihime and Adame still weren't talking. He was being polite and sociable to anyone who came by, and he stood next to her as they surveyed the food, but beyond that, it was uncomfortable.

Ichihime tried to break the ice with something that was mundane but civil. "Shall we get something to eat?"

"Sure," he said, although not with his usual charm and enthusiasm.

Ichihime was surprised when, after a moment, he politely passed her a small plate of rice tempura - remembering that it was her favorite. "Aw, thanks," she said sweetly, trying to be nice and make up for her nasty behavior. He returned a charming smile but said nothing as he continued to pick out a few items.

Ichihime added a series of items to her plate (mainly some chicken, pasta, and artichoke hearts), and met up with Adame. She studied his plate and found that he had some of the marinated meat and bacon dumplings.

"How's the food?" she asked, trying to make small talk.

"Quite good," he answered, swallowing. "These dumplings are rather tasty."

Ichihime smiled and sighed uneasily. "I... could use some fresh air. Would you mind getting me some wine and meeting me outside?"

He put his fork down on his plate and paused. "Red or white?"

"You're so thoughtful," she said nicely, perhaps overdoing it with the cloying overture but trying hard to make amends. "White."

"I'll meet you in the gardens," he answered, not coldly but not with his regular warmth, and Ichihime turned to head back outside; trying to collect herself.

On the way, however, she was accosted by her uncle and his guest. "Hime-chan! You look so beautiful today."

"_Arigato,_ Shunsui-ojisama," she bowed politely. Kyoraku was her elder and she always treated him respectfully, no matter how much she hated it when he called her that. 'Hime-sama' was annoying but she would suffer it - in fact, it was probably the only time she tolerated that overblown -sama honorific from anyone other than her servant staff, where it was unavoidable - but the -chan just grated her. She hadn't been -chan to anybody in over a hundred years, save for Yachiru since it couldn't be helped. "Nice to see you, Rantao Fukutaicho."

Her fellow lieutenant nodded. "...What did you think of the ceremony?" she asked cautiously. Her previous exposure to the Banzo princess had been a bit... rough around the edges.

"I found it very inspiring," Ichihime replied, her formality in place. "I have never seen anything like it before - was it, ah, a typical ceremony?" _For commoners,_ I mean. Although I can't say that because it would be rude.

Rantao understood the hidden question. Socially awkard, yes; idiot, no. "It's one of the many variations, yes," she answered demurely.

"Where's your guest, Hime-chan?" Kyoraku snuck in. "I was hoping I could get to have a drink with the young fellow."

Uh, no. The last thing I need is for Uncle Shun to start playing 20 Questions. "He is braving the lines by the bar, I believe."

"Oh I'm sure if you went over there they would let you cut through," Shunsui shrugged. "Head of House and all," he teased, knowing full well how much Ichihime hated to flaunt her position of royalty.

Oh give me a break, Ichihime thought. You know I hate that kind of shit. "I came to celebrate the bride and groom's union, not to interfere with the celebrations of those around me," she answered pointedly but politely, knowing full well that Shunsui was poking fun at her.

Shunsui laughed, turning to Rantao, who seemed very out of place in the presence of the majestic princess in her formalwear. "That's Hime-chan for you. Always pretending like she's one of the gang."

"Thank you for saying hello, Shunsui-ojisama. Nice to see you again, Rantao Fukutaicho," Ichihime said politely, sounding totally unlike herself. Her princess speech was always on hyperdrive when she was in the presence of her uncle. She was anxious to get outside (so she could stop acting like a saccharine, sugary porcelain doll) and wait for Adame so that they could talk. "If you'll please excuse me, I need some fresh air."

"Come, Kiku-san, before Hime-chan's food gets cold waiting for her to eat it," Kyoraku suggested, catching Ichihime's desire to be left alone. "Besides, I want you to taste the dumplings."

"Yes, try the dumplings," Ichihime encouraged. "I've heard that they are delicious."

They made their niceties and Ichihime finally made it outside. The ceremonial gardens were beautiful, and a few others had come out to enjoy the fresh air. Thankfully, it was considerably less crowded as most were still hitting the buffet. Ichihime meandered a bit, trying to enjoy the clean air and the wonderful scent of roses. She was thinking about what to say to Adame when she was approached by the other House representative at the wedding.

_Accosted at every turn, aren't we? _Shiji teased. _You're so popular today._

And you've got a gas-powered turbine attached to your motormouth.

_Hey, it's your fault I'm so snarky today._

You're snarky _every_ day. Today, you're just annoying.

_Tsk, tsk. Play nice now!_

Whatever. Just shut up!

[It is my honor to meet the Head of Banzo House,] Toki signed, bowing her head slightly. [I am Shihoin Toyuki Tokine, and this here is Kyon.] The man next to her in the odd attire bowed as well, although he appeared to be less accustomed to the gesture and did it rather rigidly.

[Nice to meet you,] Ichihime signed back. [I was unaware that you were deaf.]

[I am not,] she replied, her face as still as steel as but her hands conveying a humorous smile. [It is simply my preferred language.]

Ichihime smiled warmly. "Would you mind, then, if I prefer my native Japanese?"

[Kyon only speaks English or Greek. And to be honest, his English sounds more like Greek to me.]

Ichihime laughed. For the sake of Kyon, she pointed to herself. "Banzo Ichihime."

"It is a great honor," he supplied in his native tongue, bowing again. Because she was a shinigami, Ichihime instantly understood it; but she wondered if she had ever actually heard Greek before.

[It sure can be awkward having companions who lack the gift of tongues.]

Ichihime laughed, and decided sign language was the only polite way to respond. [I never thought of it, but my fiance is not a shinigami, either; so I suppose you may be correct. His lack of familiarity with the inner workings of the Gotei 13 certainly seems to be a source of confusion rather often.] Come to think of it, I wonder if Adame knows any languages besides Japanese.

"I am honored that you have come to greet me," Ichihime said, switching into English for Kyon's benefit. Her English was distinctly Scottish with a speckled flavor of Norwegian and a hint of Irish. Ichihime was positive that it was as equally as impossible for Kyon to understand as her more normative Japanese. "I have not had the opportunity to properly welcome you until now, Shihoin-dono. How are you adjusting to Soul Society? I know that you have been away for a very long time."

[It has been extremely difficult and exceedingly stressful,] the robotic woman replied, her emotion conveyed only on her hands and body gestures and nowhere on her face. [I am not used to being around so many people, and after six centuries of isolation, I have discovered that I lack any sense of social etiquette. I am not used to conversing so much and feel overwhelmed. I would rather be in my room with Kyon and my music. I am surprised that I am even talking to you now. It is very unlike me. But Unohana Taicho ordered me to be social, and so I am following her command. It is a very difficult order but I am trying. She says it is good for me. I cannot understand how, but Kyon agrees.]

Ichihime found her straight, blunt, factual, no-bull self-assessment remarkably suprising. Usually people weren't that frank with you. Given what she had seen in the past few moments, it was... unsurprising that a military order was the only reason she was engaged in discussion. Shihoin Toyuki Tokine was very clearly not a normal individual. "I am sorry to hear that it has been hard," she returned kindly in English. "Have you at least found it easy to return to your House?"

[Even that has been difficult,] she answered. [It is nothing like I remember it. I do not know any of the servants, and I miss my father. But Yoruichi-sama and Urahara-sama are very kind to me, and their daughter Zari-chan is very playful. Her romping inspires me with hope that life here will hold promise for me. I have never been around small children before. I was always the youngest when I grew up in my father's House.]

Kyon spoke up, sensing a pause in the conversation. "Toki-san was just recalling how she knew your ancestors."

That had Ichihime's attention. "Really?"

[I knew the ones who were shinigami. Are any of them still alive?]

Ichihime thought of her grandfather Jirobu, who was likely still alive in the Royal Guard; but it was not prudent to discuss such details in public. "Unfortunately, I regret to state that I am the last known living member of my House."

[I remember Hibaku-dono in particular.]

"My great grandmother?"

[She was in the Kido Corps.]

"Most of my family has been in the Kido Corps," Ichihime remarked. "I could have been as well, but I decided to join the Gotei 13 instead." Absentmindedly, Ichihime added in sign language, [My kido is decent, but probably not good enough to even be accepted into the Kido Corps anymore. I'm sure I would have been quite talented if I had followed my father's desire to enlist in his division.]

[Do you regret your decision?]

Ichihime laughed. "Not one bit."

Kyon was clearly confused by the missing link in the conversation, so Ichihime rebooted with another line of discussion for his sake. "Shihoin-dono, did you like the ceremony?"

[Yes,] she answered, her hand moving appropriately while the rest of her was completely still. [I am thinking it would be nice to use myself.]

Ichihime smiled politely. [Are the two of you getting married?] she asked, using sign language in order to be discreet.

[Yes,] she answered. [But Kyon doesn't know that yet,] she explained, her gestures humorous but her face as stiff as always.

Ichihime guffawed loudly, attracting the attention of some guests from afar, who had come out to admire the gardens and escape the throngs still crowding the buffet. The Banzo princess caught herself and reigned herself in. [When does he find out?] she signed with a smile.

[Whenever I can finally overcome the sensory overload of touching him. Men are very hairy beings, did you know? I do not yet know how I am expected to sire children when it involves the act of him inserting his penis into my vagina. The last time I was married, it was to a gay man - it was very convenient. At least until his mother murdered him, anyway.]

Ichihime couged in an attempt to provide cover for her gagging and choking. Okay, that was _way_ too much information. Lack of social etiquette? Check the box, honey, you qualify. [Ah, well, may I say that you may not wish to repeat that too often,] Ichihime suggested as gently as possible.

[Socially inappropriate?]

[...Just a bit.]

[Thank you,] Toki signed. Ichihime noticed that not only did her fellow House Noble not emote, but she did not blink, either. Ichihime found it unsettling, despite the fact that the woman's hand-based communication was rather warm. [You are nice. Most people just let me make a fool of myself. They think that I am incapable of being embarrassed just because I do not show it.]

Ichihime noted that little piece of wisdom, and bowed her head graciously to accept the compliment. [Perhaps you should simply tell others that you are waiting until you are more acclimated here.]

[That is a good suggestion.]

Kyon politely interrupted. "Toki, do you want more to eat?"

She cocked her head in a curious fashion. "Yes," she answered.

"Dumplings?"

"Yes."

"Onigiri?"

"...No."

"Anything else?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm... Chicken?"

"Yes."

"Okay - is that all?"

"Yes."

Kyon looked awkward.

"Go on with him," Ichihime encouraged in Japanese. "He enjoys your company; spend some time with him."

Toki cocked her head at Ichihime. [But I do not like it in there. It is too noisy for me.]

Ichihime bowed her head gently. She found herself speaking Gaelic of all things, just so that no one else present would be privvy to her comments. "We all have to learn to live with things that we don't like," she said gently, careful to implicate herself as an equal recipient of her advice.

Toki stared at her. After a moment or two of seemingly void spaciness, she replied a simple "Yes." With a tiny bow that was abrupt but yet still polute, Toki turned away from Ichihime, and Kyon escorted her back towards the hall.

Ichihime looked around for Adame, but could not see him, and began to feel anxious. Did he ditch her? Did she ruin everything? But even before Shiji could interject with some spunky remark about her paranoia, a glass of white wine was suddenly presented to her from behind, startling her. Adame had apparently taken a circuitous route so that he could sneak up on her. "Ah - thanks," she said, catching her breath.

He sat down next to her, and they sat quietly for a minute. Ichihime noticed that he did not have his own glass of wine.

Ichihime sighed, diving right in. She couldn't bear with it any longer. "Adame-kun, I'm sorry."

"I know," he said with a smile, and he took her hand. "Me too."

"I explode sometimes. It's wrong of me."

"I cry sometimes," he quipped. "It's sissy of me."

She laughed. Ichihime loved his sense of humor. He was so handsome when he smiled - his boyish face and casual hair, his deep burgundy kimono and a stud-and-chained ceremonial katana at his side held in place by a silk embroidered sash. He was so dashing.

Returning to a more serious tone, she continued apologizing. "I said a lot of mean things. I didn't mean to be such a bitch."

_So much for the princess speech, eh, Hime-sama?_

Suck rancid meat, you bat-winged demon wannabe. Can't you shut the fuck up for _five goddamned minutes?_

_Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a bunch, Hime-sama._

My panties have nothing to do with it!

_Sure, sure,_ Shiji laughed. _Whatever you say._

SHUT UP!

"I'm sorry I upset you," Adame replied. "It's clear that this is something important to you."

Ichihime looked at him, desperately wishing he could read her mind so that he could understand. She so badly wanted him to understand; to see inside and feel what she felt. "Listen - maybe it's hard for you to understand, but Kuchiki-dono is my senpai. It was Ise-senpai and Kuchiki-sama who nominated and recommended me to become a lieutenant. I owe them both a lot, and I look up to Kuchiki-sama. She is an extraordinary rolemodel. Kuchiki-senpai is an incredibly accomplished shinigami; proud, intelligent, wise, personable and elegant - and everything I wish I was."

"You are," Adame corrected.

Ichihime smiled at him warmly before continuing. "Over the past ten years, I have wanted nothing more than to be half the woman she is. And although we aren't exceptionally close - not like she and Ise-senpai are - I am very, very, _very_ lucky to be able to call her a friend. She is my friend, Adame-kun - a friend I really care about. It wasn't something that Kuchiki-senpai ever talked about, but I know for sure that she was really hurting inside for a long time. She wanted a child, Adame-kun - it was the only thing she ever seemed to want. Adopted or not adopted, I don't care. I just want her to be happy. I really, really want her to be happy. That's all."

"I understand," he acknowledged. "I should have been more open-minded. It shouldn't have bothered me. I should know that what she did is not a reflection on how you feel about me."

"And I also want _you_ to be happy," Ichihime continued. "I honestly think that I lost my temper because you wouldn't talk to me openly and earnestly about what was bothering you. I had to pry it out of you, and for the life of me, I couldn't understand why you wouldn't just talk to me. You always talk to me. You're the only one who ever really listens to _me,_ the real me; the me I am and not the me I should be. All I wanted was for you to talk to me. Really."

He sighed. "That was my fault."

Trying to be cutesy, she playfully knocked him softly on his head like she was knocking on a door. "Bonehead move, Adame-kun," she teased.

He laughed. "I suppose so."

"Can we try this over? This afternoon started off so wonderfully," Ichihime pleaded, sounding surprisingly like a starry-eyed teenager. "I don't want a stupid fight to ruin it."

He put his arm around her and gave her an affectionate squeeze accompanied by a smile that set her heart aflutter. "Yes, _please_, let's start over. How about from here: Will you marry me?"

"Yes, Adame-kun," she laughed, wrapped up in his wiles; and she kissed him. He really was her Prince Charming.

-:-

"Hey," Hisagi said as he approached Nanao with a glass of red wine. "Great job on the wedding."

"Thanks," she answered, taking it from him. "I'm amazed I pulled it off, considering what else was going on."

"Sshh," he teased. "You don't want anyone suspecting you of anything."

"Oh shah," she teased. Shuuhei looked handsome in his dark green yukata. "I'm just glad I can finally relax for a change. Because after this, I have the Session for Aristocracy to worry about."

"I can't believe Yoruchi-san dragged you into that," he chuckled.

"I seemed to get dragged into all kinds of things," Nanao muttered.

A mischievous gleam formed in Hisagi's eye as a demonically sly smile began to form. "Well, I could always drag you into something else..."

"Oh no," she teased. "No, no, no - you know my answer," she warned while giggling - clearly a sign of the alcohol's influence.

"Even if I got down on one knee in front of all these people?"

Ise eye's widened to accompany her giggling grin in a _'you better not or I'll kill you'_ gesture. "No amount of wedding spirit is going to get me to say yes," she whispered quietly, not wanting anyone to hear what she was saying.

"Aw, c'mon, Nan-chan," he prodded teasingly. "You're still hung up on that 'institutional enslavement' thing? As if _I_ was the one in charge in our relationship?" he laughed.

"Hey! Hold it, wait-!" - but Nanao could not get a word in edgewise because Hisagi was tickling her waist; and she couldn't stop laughing.

"One of these days," he mockingly threatened her.

"Never," she flirted back, sticking her tongue out at him.

"We'll see," Hisagi teased, and tickled her some more before Nanao smacked him on the arm.

"Something to share?" Kyouraku asked casually, surprising them from behind.

Nanao's face was red - from the tickling, of course. "_No,_ Papa," she stated definitively. "How about you?"

Now it was Rantao's turn to blush, but Shunsui wasn't fazed. "Well, as a matter of fact, I was thinking about how weddings are so wonderful. It would be nice to have a wedding in the family, wouldn't it?"

The eyes and mouths of Nanao, Shuuhei, and Kiku all spread wide open in embarrassed shock. He really wasn't bringing this up, was he?

Shunsui smiled lazily, belying the fact that he was poking fun at all of them. "I'm sure it won't be long before Hime-chan and her escort come to ask her cousin Nanao-chan to plan their wedding, too."

_Damn you,_ you lazy, good-for-nothing ass, Nanao thought humorously. I'm going to get you for that little prank.

-:-

Nakatsu's eyes never left their target.

Patience.

_Patience._

That was all that mattered.

Patience.

They would wait for three hours if needed. It was all about patience.

It wasn't like they would easily lose sight of his target. Woman in a bright yellow kimono. There were only two, and both were part of his assignment.

Yes, _patience._

-:-

_Meanwhile_

Q looked out at the workbench. Things were proceeding remarkably well: he had cut off the hilt wrappings, unstitched the leather wrapping around the handle, and had started on removing the rivets that were holding the wooden handle extensions to the remaining tang of the sword blade. He had gotten the first one out after quite a lot of effort, but he had figured out how to do it slightly more efficiently after the second one; and was working on the third rivet at the moment. Surprisingly, the sword had six rivets in the handle; he had expected only three or four, so this was taking longer than he expected. No matter. He would keep at it.

Once he had the rivets out, he could pop off the wooden castings over the tang, unless they were glued on (in which case, he would need to chisel them off). After he did that, he could proceed to the o-ring that was used to buttresss the crossguard and see how he could separate it from the tang. It would likely require a blowtorch to de-weld it, given his luck at taking this one apart. Then he would finally have the blade's core exposed, and he could take the final readings and, assuming she didn't croak on him, _finally_ try an extraction.

"How are you doing over there?" Q asked. "You can't pass out on me," he cautioned, poking her ribs with the pencil he was using to take down notes. "I won't be able to get good data that way."

Momo didn't react. She couldn't react. Being poked with a pencil was a stimulus far too low on the threshhold for her brain to register the sensation. It was insignificant by comparison to the screaming, searing, gut-creeping, bone-rattling pain that was burning and churning in her, roasting her alive in its skittery, skin-crawling agony. And that was nothing compared to the violation - the cruel and harrowing violation; the penetration of her soulcore and its secrets, the invasion of her most sacred self; the breaching of her mind and the grimy, tainted encroachment of his hands and thoughts in the deepest depths of the intimate sanctum of her soul.

It was no wonder that Sasakibe died. No one would want to live after this, anyway.

* * *

_**Reviews please!** You know I crave them. Next chapter: The hunter and the hunted._


	38. Detached Catastrophe, Suicide Immortal

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note:** Thanks for all your warm wishes. With regards to my recovery: slow but steady. Thanks. :)_

_**Translator's note:** The Japanese word 'itai' means 'pain' . It can also be used as a verb (e.g. it 'hurts') or as an exclamation ('ouch!')._

**WARNING:** **This chapter contains content that is only suitable for a teenage audience and above (15+).** I do not believe that the way I have presented it warrants an M rating; but that is my judgement, not yours. Please be forewarned.

* * *

_"Now listen to me, Hiro-kun. You had over fifty years with your mother. That's far more than I ever had, so you have no reason to cry. I sacrificed so much for you - I never married, never had the experience of childbirth, watched myself grow old and frail far away while Toshiro raised you on his own. I've had a hard life, Hiro-kun. One where I lived with guilt and pain, even when I did the right thing. But I don't regret a minute of it. No matter how little I saw him, I had Toshiro to lean on; and when we decided we wanted more, there was you to come home to. And for fifty years, I've been a mother; and you've been my son. As hard as it has been, you've fulfilled my life, Hiro-kun. So don't you cry for me. Keep those tears to yourself, Hiro-kun. You keep them inside, because they will make you strong. And as long as you are strong, you will remember that death is our calling. Sometimes, it even catches up with us. And now, for me, Hiro-kun - it is death's turn. Honor your mother, Makahiro-san - honor your mother's sacrifice and her happiness, and shed no tears for me."_

_~Kurosaki Karin, on her deathbed; to her son Hitsugaya Makahiro_

* * *

_"It took decades before she was comfortable taking a shower by herself. You know how it can be - the sensory input of thousands of droplets of water hitting her skin. It was completely paralyzing at first. Even as a little child, taking a bath was a challenge. But she's learned how to do it, and now she's been showering every day by herself for a very long time already; over ten years. It's just an example, but it proves that she is capable of commpletely overcoming obvious barriers to normal life. So I think that, with your help and patience, she could be more than functional; even helpful."_

_Unohana Retsu sighed. "Out of deference to your honor and my personal respect for you, I will do my best to accommodate her, Shihoin-no-kimi. But you should talk with her first. This is still a military, and I can't have the patients administering the hospital, so-to-speak."_

_"Of course," Pomodora said. "I'll have a long, serious talk with Toki-chan and make sure she understands. Orders must be followed, and she has to meet expectations of her station at all times; including detailed communication when necessary. She will not come into your division until I am positive that she is prepared to function among others and to respect the clockwork of your division and all that it entails."_

_"Is that a guarentee?"_

_Pomodora sighed. "I can't guarentee it, no... but that's why I'm begging you, Unohana Taicho. She needs this. She needs to be able to function in a world that won't coddle her. I try not to coddle her at home, but the nature of her environment in our House is not ideal for reinforcing that message. But if it isn't working, and if she is causing you trouble, than I promise I will take her off your hands."_

_"Fair enough," Unohana nodded. Shihoin Pomodora was a man she trusted. "...Give me a few days to make arrangements."_

_"Arigato gozai mashita, Unohana Taicho."_

_~Conversation between Head of House and 4th Division Captain, over six centuries ago_

* * *

Karin put her arm around Toshiro. The party had been great - Hikaru was beautiful! - but she was happy to have the opportunity to spend time with him. They were up on the roof, snuggled up. It was quite possibly the only place in the house that they had any sense of privacy - and even there, they had to shoo away Yoruichi and Urahara first (who had also journeyed to Karakura to celebrate). Later, Karin and Toshiro would go find somewhere truly private to spend some intimate time (Kurogetsu and Tsukihime were begging for Hyorinmaru's attention); but for the moment, Karin was just happy to have her longtime boyfriend (lover? partner? soulmate?) close by.

"Ne, Karin."

"Hm?"

"I was thinking."

"'Bout what?"

His next statement hit her like a missile with a nuclear warhead. "I don't know, maybe... maybe we should... get married or something."

Karin nearly fell off the roof. _"What?"_

"We never really talked about it," Toshiro said, not very passionately. "I just thought that it would be something we should discuss... at least to figure out how we feel about it."

"I don't know, Toshiro," Karin replied, not sounding very happy. "I don't think I could do that."

Toshiro wasn't sure how he was supposed to take that. "What do you mean?"

Karin was clearly distressed. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"...I'm sorry I brought it up."

She realized that she owed him an explanation; one that wouldn't crush him. "I love you, Toshiro, but I don't think I can do it. Ichi-nii waded through tons of political crap. I mean, I know I don't feel like a shinigami noble, but if I go along with it, they're not going to let us get married anyway. And if I pretend like I'm a commoner, it would cause problems for Ichi-nii and Ruki-nee. I'd rather just avoid the whole mess."

Toshiro wasn't buying it. "That's your only concern?"

Karin sighed. "...No," she admitted. "...I'm not ready for it, Toshiro. I'm too young. I don't even know what my life is going to look like yet. I'm just not there, Toshiro - I'm just not there." But that was only the surface. Karin had many more worries and concerns. Ones that were not as easy to dismiss.

She thought of the last picture that they had taken together: her favorite memory - the picture that had stayed with her in college; the one that her American roommate Susan always asked about. The picture that captured Karin and Toshiro when they were still the same physical age. The memory of when it was okay to love a boy who looked 14, because she was 14 herself.

Now, though, those thoughts weighted down heavily on Karin's mind. For some reason, marriage was like a seal of incrimination; the commitment proving that Karin was far over into dangerous, dangerous territory. Without a formalized commitment, there was plausible deniability. _No, I don't sleep with a young boy;_ Karin could deny. It would be a total lie, but she could say it. She could lie to herself as much as she could lie to someone else. Marriage, though, would make that impossible. Married people have sex. Period. Karin might as well brand the scarlet letter right into her forehead at that point.

Toshiro was still. "Okay."

"You're mad at me, aren't you."

Hitsugaya didn't know the honest answer to that question, but he gave himself the benefit of the doubt. "No."

Karin squeezed him tightly. "I don't like things the way they are, Toshiro. I want more than this. I don't like being apart from you most of the time. I'd much rather see you every day, or even live with you. But I can't. You can't live here. I really can't live there. And I'm not like Ichi-nii or Ruki-nee. They're better than I am, Toshiro. They make it work. But I can't. I just can't get married, Toshiro - it would hurt too much. It already hurts. I don't need something to make it worse."

He sighed. "So _then_ what?"

Karin was almost in tears. Almost, because she didn't cry, but she was almost there. "Why does there have to be 'then'?" she asked sadly. "I'm not going anywhere, Toshiro. It sucks. It really does. But I _can't_ make it worse. I'm still trying to get used to what we have now, and not adjusting fast enough. It's hard, Toshiro. I miss you terribly, all the time."

Toshiro was passive. He didn't know what to think. "Alright."

"I'm sorry," Karin said, her face contorted but her eyes dry. He recognized the expression: Karin was torn. "Please forgive me."

"Yeah," he said halfheartedly.

Karin could tell that she had practically killed him. "How about you ask me again in six months?" she pleaded, hoping that at the very least she could throw him a bone. It was awful of her. She already knew what she would say half a year from now.

He seemed to accept that a bit more positively. "Okay, then. Six months."

"I can't promise my answer will be any different," she warned. "But maybe things will be easier by then. If I'm ready. I don't know that I will be, but at least we can think about it then some more - is that okay?" she asked, worried.

Toshiro shrugged. "Yeah," he exhaled. "I guess."

Karin wanted to do anything to reassure him. She felt like she had ruined everything. "...Can I kiss you? Please?"

He lifted his chin, and she went full press, stumbling him backwards against the shingles. Karin mashed her full body into him; trying to get a reaction; seizing his hair and pulling his face into her.

But Toshiro seemed like a wet fish.

Unable to help herself anymore, tears finally poured out of Karin's eyes and spilled onto his cheek. It was the first time she had cried in an exhaustibly long time. It hurt so badly to cry; to give in; to be so exposed; but it was beyond her control. The tears, though, seemed to catch Toshiro's attention; and he awakened, returning her raw and exposed display of vulnerability with a comforting promise. His hands found themselves gripping her waist tightly, and when their kiss eventually broke, Karin sobbed into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I just can't. I love you too much to be dishonest and pretend that I'm ready for this."

But Toshiro just hushed her and let her cry. He understood. Or at least he hoped he did. He had a pretty good idea of what was going on in Karin's head. It wasn't like they weren't the same questions going on in his.

He didn't have to like it - but he understood. He wasn't angry, he wasn't disappointed. He just understood.

-:-

Toki and Kyon entered their room. The wedding had been an exhausting day for both of them, and they were ready for bed.

Although they were both worn out, Kyon was particularly drained. He wasn't used to sheparding Toki around so much, and minding her took a lot of mental focus and concentration. It was taxing to figure out how to communicate with her. He still could not interpret sign language very well; he had only started learning recently since Toki had begun using it regularly. He could recognize 'yes', 'no', 'please' and 'thank you' pretty easily, as well as 'tired', 'hungry' and 'bathroom'. The basics that were essential for taking care of her. Beyond that, he struggled to understand her most of the time, although that was nothing new for him. Considering that they were totally out of their normal environment today, though, it had been more of a challenge than usual.

Toki was quick to turn on the music - some nice, relaxing Bach - as she began to remove her kimono and undergarments, not minding Kyon's presence. Kyon was still embarrassed by her unabashed display of nakedness around him, although he could never restrain himself from looking. Her inversed complexion - for example, the fact that her back, buttocks, and most of her legs were as dark-skinned as Lady Yoruichi despite her face, hands and feet being extraordinarily pale - always seized his attention. It was one more oddity for a woman who was already odd. Kyon had heard that despite the typical dark complexion in the Shihoin family, they were carriers of albinism; from what Sir Urahara had told him, Lady Yoruichi's sister Yohana had been just as pale as Toki's face and hands. He wondered if Toki was perhaps an indication that the genes went rather far back.

Still in his suit, he watched Toki change into a soft white brushed-cotton nightrobe before turning around to look at him again. More embarrassed than she was about his nudity, Kyon nodded to her politely and took out a set of flannel pajamas from his dresser, and went into the bathroom to change. They were intimate in some ways and not in others - it was weird. Half the time, Kyon found himself trying to be physically distant from her only because he was worried he wouldn't be able to restrain himself otherwise. The incidents of intense, passionate, breath-stealing kissing without any other form of physical embrace that happened two or three times a week now could be very, very trying. Unlike when he was under the NATA's control, he had freedom here to be with her at all times. Temptation was a legitimate bane of his existence. He did not want to do anything that she was not ready for.

When Kyon exited the restroom, he was surprised to see Toki looking at him with her head cocked to the side. She was rarely inquisitive, and he knew to interpret the gesture as one of intense curiousity. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes," she said flatly, and trotted over in an odd shuffle. It was a poor attempt to move in rhythm with the low, graceful melody of the cellos; and she sort of loped in a clumsy way over to him, cocking her head side to side slowly to match the tempo. She stopped only when she was within two inches of him, staring straight ahead into his chest. The faded purplish hair of her head sat underneath Kyon's chin, and she didn't look up at him. It was oddly personal and non-personal at the same time; like she was inspecting one of the buttons on his pajama shirt for a misplaced thread.

Instead, she reached her hand up his shirt and rested the palm of her hand on his chest in a highly scientific manner, like one would conduct an experiment. Kyon didn't mind the personal contact - he actually savored the very intimate-but-not gesture - but to say he was confused would not be an adequate description of the mind-wracking puzzle he had been thrown into.

"Hairy," she remarked, and then removed her hand. Before Kyon could even digest what she had said, she turned around from him abruptly and did her awkward strut over to her bed, where she lay down rather quickly. By the time Kyon could finish absorbing what had happened, she was snoring.

Bizarre, he thought, still smiling. She never snores.

Tired himself, Kyon lay down on the bed on the opposite side of the room and went to sleep. Every day was a new discovery. It was something he loved about her.

-:-

Ichihime could not imagine anything better than this.

She was lying in the lush green grass fields of the Banzo Estate, staring up at the stars. Adame was sprawled out next to her, his hand around hers, and they were recounting all of the things that they had been told about the constellations as children. Ichihime had few stories to tell - her father Tanabi had preferred she learn the astronomy; so while she knew the names of the constellations and when they appeared throughout the year, she did not have much legend to speak of.

Adame, of course, was filled with stories and fables. He recounted stories about the Seven Samurai, the Selecao, the Ga Rei, the Puella Magi, and so many other fascinating tales of myth and legend. There was no doubt he was a helpless romantic; he was well versed in literature and the poems of Kobayishi, Rostigger, Tungsten and Yozaidano. Ichihime was sure she could listen to him laugh and speak forever.

That wasn't to say that they didn't talk about serious matters. They did. Both of them had gone into extended detail about their family relationships. What it was like for both of them to grow up without a mother. Ichihime recounted the many reasons why she had hated her father, and why she had learned to accept that she no longer hated him despite all of those reasons. Adame had discussed life with six brothers, all but one of them older, and the pressures of family business and the stress of tight times and too many father-in-laws that attached heavy prices to their daughter's engagement into his family. Ichihime loved that she could be so open with him, and that he was so open with her. He was so accepting of her; it made it easy.

Adame wasn't perfect - he had flaws. He was, like he confessed without hesitation, a bit of a wuss. She had seen him balk at a garden snake that had been slithering out on her estate. From what she could tell, he could get lost into deep conversations about his work without realizing that it wasn't of general interest. Ichihime accepted him, though, for who he was - and he put her at ease. She was happy he wasn't perfect. If he seemed too perfect, it couldn't be real. And so far, Ichihime was blissfully happy that he was real. He was wonderful.

"Adame-kun?"

"Yes, Ichihime-sama?"

"I don't want to point it out, but you probably have to go home at some point."

"I know," he smiled. "But I am loathe to depart."

"As am I," she nudged, "but I am worried that my majordomo is going to suddenly come and bemoan our lack of a chaperone at such a late hour."

Adame laughed. "I certainly do not wish to find myself in Hoshimura-san's rebuke."

"Tell me about it," Ichihime chuckled. "She gave me an earful this afternoon."

Adame's eyes widened. "She must be rather special if she can give Your Grace an earful and live to tell the tale," he teased.

Ichihime grinned. "Yeah, well, it's one of her privileges as majordomo. Someone has to keep my feet on the ground."

Adame sat up, and Ichihime was raptured by his handsome face in the moonlight. She was sorely tempted to ruffle his hair, but knew that if she did, things would probably snowball to a point where she would get much more than an earful from Makina-chan. "I think your feet are already pretty steadfast on terra firma, Ichihime-sama. Much more than mine."

"One of us has to be the dreamer," she smirked, extending her hand so he could help her up. Once she was off the ground and had dusted herself off, he chivalrously offered his arm. Ichihime took it and they continued down the garden path and towards the manor.

Upon reaching the archway to the overhang that led into the foyer, he let her go and gave a polite bow. "I look forward to seeing you again, Ichihime-sama."

"Me, too," she returned rather lusciously. She was feeling naughty. Not that she could act on such impulses - such things were not befitting of a princess, Ichihime knew - but if he had to leave, Ichihime wished to send him off in a state of wanting more. She had every desire to impress upon him to be quick to return. Daring to let his pulse increase, she stepped to close the gap between them, her smile radiating the call of a siren who would not be silenced.

But the gap never closed - because a bound and gagged Makina was thrown between them. Out of nowhere, Ichihime and Adame were suddenly surrounded by what must have been fifty shinobi, armed with kusari-gama, blades of all sizes, nunchaku, spears, and katars.

-:-

Kyon awoke with a start as he felt someone's knee press into his back and yank his arms back, immobilizing him. He let out a scream but a rubber ball was crammed into his mouth and it came out as nothing more than a muffle.

Adrenaline surging, he struggled and fought, but it was pointless. Ten to fifteen cloak-and-daggered assailants were in his room, and every single one of them's attention was on him. One of them grabbed him by the hair and directed his head to the left, where he saw Toki - who was pinned to the wall with spears jammed through her shoulders and knees; her legs forced wide open. Her robe was tattered and torn; her throat was slit wide and blood was all over her naked chest. Her neatly groomed patch of rich plum hair, exposed against the darker skin of her stomach and thighs, was stained with blood.

_Oh my god._

Oh my god, oh my god.

No. They _didn't_ - they didn't -

_Oh my god_ - No, no - _no!_ No! _NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_

_*SNAP*_

And then there was void.

-:-

"Adame-kun," Ichihime whispered as she quickly took out Makina's gag. She was unconscious. "Can you carry her inside?"

He nodded and hoisted up Makina's unconscious body in between them. "Ichihime-sama - I know you're accomplished, but- are you sure?"

"I got this," Ichihime answered confidently with the burning eyes of a determined demon. "Take her and go!"

Adame exhaled, shook his head as if to clear a panicky disbelief, and rushed inside with Makina slumped over his shoulder.

A leathery yellow gargoyle-like oni danced across from Ichihime's line of vision. Ichihime recognized Shiji's mischievous smirk across his beakish face, but she was surprised to see him in the public view. She had only seen him face-to-face in meditation.

_"Of course we got this,"_ Shiji said to her - and although Ichihime could hear him in her ears, she somehow understood that the communication was still telepathic. _"We can handle it, can't we, Hime-sama?"_

Oh yes we can, Shiji. They picked a fight with the wrong shinigami.

Ichihime floodgated her reiatsu. As a pure-blooded House noble, even below captain level, her spiritual pressure was enormous. The earth quaked and rattled, the air hummed and distorted, and those assailants who made up the second-rate tier of buffoonery were unable to withstand it. Paralyzed under her wave of reishi, her next move was simple:

_"Hado #4: White Lightning,"_ she recited. **_"Bang."_**

_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._ One by one, she shot the nobodies down to the ground; ending their lives without a moment's hesitation. No one attacks Banzo Ichihime and expects not to suffer the consequences. By the time Ichihime reigned in her soulcore, ceasing the gushing flow of spirit-crushing power, there was only one left. He had clearly been able to move and had a bakudo shield up to defend himself. He was obviously the one in charge.

For him, Ichihime withdrew her tanto. It felt so right to withdraw it from its new home in the heat of battle. "Hey punk, do you have a name?"

The dark-clad shinobi withdrew a nodachi that was nearly five times the reach of her knife. "For what purpose do you need to know my name?"

"To write it on your tombstone, you dumb shithead."

The ninja laughed. "My name is Nakatsu. None who ask to hear it live to tell another's ears."

Ichihime raised her free hand to him open palm, and then curled her fingers up in the universal gesture of _Bring It On._ "Spare me your ego trip, Sphincter Face. Just fight me and die already."

He cocked his blade, and in a vanishing flash of shunpo, the battle began.

-:-

"_Kami-sama! _Are you okay?"

Shihoin Toyuki Tokine looked up at her zanpakutou in her inner world. "Jen - I-"

Genesis wrapped herself around the poor woman. "It's okay, it's okay - I'm here. I'm here. We're together. Everything will be okay."

Toyuki cried and sobbed and cried in the safety of her private space; the private blackness that was completely still and did not disturb her with unnecessary stimuli. It was her safety; her safety against a world that had gifted her and punished her with extraordinary sensory perception. It was the only place where she could shut out everything - the light, the sound, the violent thrusting and the dripping of sweat on her forehead and all of the other sensations that were occurring somewhere else. It was not that she did not feel it - she did - but here, she was detached; disconnected and safe with no one to judge her. There were no muscles and lungs and pharynx here; no force of expelling air from her lungs; it was only consciousness. A consciousness that could be free; free from the prison of sensation that her body gave her.

Free from the heavy weight of a hooded man pressed up against her, with his smell of tumblegrass mixed with toejam and masked with wraithsmoke berries; free from the sounds of his grunting and hurking and gyrating. She was just a consciousness that could be free from all of those palpable corporeal experiences of the physical world. She stayed in that inner-spirited embrace of her tanto's freedom for a long time, knowing that if she left the safety of her sanctuary, she would not survive the beastly encounter with the reality outside.

Eventually, after an eternity's time to a stream of consciousness, her external form was lethally incised and left to wither and die; with no more need for her anatomical container to possess the power of sensation. With this interaction removed, Toyuki was free to dwell on what she should do now. With sudden clarity of mind that could only come from the excessively segmented thoughtwork of Shihoin Tokine, she stopped crying and gasped. "Oh no - what about Kyon? Jen, they're going to kill Kyon! We have to do something!"

Genesis stroked her fingers through her God's hair. The time for living had passed. Kami-sama was not of this time; she was of an era that had long passed on during her exile. There were no easy answers, but she humored her master anyway. "Tell me, Kami-sama - tell me what to do, and I shall obey. But I fear that you will find no path to travel."

"I don't know what to do!" Toki cried. "I've never had to fight anyone! I don't know how to hurt people, Jen!"

Her zanpakutou hugged her tightly, resigned to fate. "Then don't fight. We can die here together."

_"NO!"_ Toki shouted, in tears. "I can't just die! Kyon needs me!"

"I only have dominion over life," Genesis whispered sadly. "I am sorry, Kami-sama. We are not at that junction."

Toki's eyes steeled as she pouted in a giant temper tantrum. "I refuse, Jen! I _refuse_!"

The feather-winged lady before her did not understand. "Refuse what?"

Toki shoved her manifested omega spirit away; surprising the ancient cherub. Her God was never one to feel anger. "Kaseira-sama was murdered because I couldn't save him," Toki bawled. "Trevor-kun became a hollow because I didn't have the heart to send him on. I will not let another fall while I sit idle, Jen!"

"You are brave to want to help, Kami-sama," Genesis praised her with a saddened sigh. "But what can you do?"

Toki stomped her foot. "_Everything_ - now give me your power!"

"My power?" Genesis laughed. "You may be my God, Kami-sama, but you cannot seize my power."

_"Then I will take it from you!"_

Genesis sighed, like a sad mother who knows their child cannot understand the complex realities of the real world. "Accept the truth, Kami-sama. We have lost again."

_"THAT IS NOT THE TRUTH!"_ Toki screamed, and forced her way out of her inner world. _I will create my own truth!_

-:-

Blades clashed as the two warriors flashed all over the courtyard, engaged in a high stakes battle of rapid-movement sword strikes. Clashing sparks against the echoes of clanging metal were the only sights to see.

Under the intense strikes of steel against brass, Ichihime carefully recited a hado spell that was probably too high for her reach, but hoped the stress of battle would force it out of her. _"Hands in the iron curtain / Radiate splendor of the broken fist / Channel the sun of the moon on high / Echo over the ravenous carverns - Hado #59: Purple Shockwave!"_

The spell, which was casted with a full incantation but with only of of the two normal hand movements, was pushing the upper cusp of Ichihime's ability, and she barely succeeded. The outward slice of searing purple radiation was not very potent, but it was enough to tear into Nakatsu's ribs, arms, and chest. It paused the hypersonic cascade of brass on steel, and both paused to assess the state of play.

"Hey punk," Ichihime said. "You got anything better for me? 'Cause really, you put Makina-chan in ropes. You realize now that I'm just gonna pack you up in a body bag, right?"

Nakatsu snorted. _"Interlace, Deathline."_

Ichihime taunted him, fanning her fingers out in complete mockery. "Oooh - shikai! Look, now you've got lots of crazy spikes all over your body! Ooooooh, _scary!_ C'mon, time to fight a giant porcupine who's too scared to show his own face!"

He responded only with a charge right at her.

What a sucker, Ichihime grinned. _"Hado #33: Sokatsui."_ BOOM.

But despite his whole body lit on fire as it collided with the explosion (considerably larger than average, given Ichihime's reiatsu levels), Nakatsu charged through, and a spiked hook caught Ichihime through the cheek. A flick of his hand sent her hurtling through the dirt, proving to Ichihime that she had a serious fight on her hands for a change.

Still burning like a banshee on fire, Nakatsu approached. It seemed as though it didn't faze him one bit.

Ichihime got to her feet. Too bad she sucked at medical kido. She could really use it right now to staunch the bleeding hole in her face. As if I'm not ugly enough, she muttered mentally.

On the plus side, her ridiculously foofy pomp-and-circumstance yellow Head-of-House kimono had been completely ruined. She would never have to wear it again. Praise the ancestors. Her father would have been furious, which made Ichihime a bit proud. I always wanted to have a good excuse to scuff this thing up.

_"But I suppose it's time to get serious, Hime-sama. Don't you think?"_ the oni asked, his leathery wings flapping him afloat over her shoulder.

Eager today, aren't we?

_"It's not everyday we get to call someone a punk, you know. And then to be allowed to beat the shit out of him? C'mon, Hime-sama, that's just a bonus!"_

How true, Ichihime smirked. _"Scream, Shiji,"_ she commanded, morphing her tanto into its giant-boomerang shikai form. You want to see fire, Bigshot Punk? Alright, _let's do fire._

-:-

Toyuki's eyes snapped open, and the searing pain in her body was astonishing. She immediately snapped her eyes back shut. The overload into her sensory nerves - _oh Kami-sama, my pelvis hurts; it hurts, oh God it hurts so bad_ - was beyond anything she had ever experienced. The urge to cry and sob and heave was exceedingly intense, grave and demanding and begging for death to come swiftly so that she would not have to live with the mental and physical affliction.

_A shower,_ her mind screamed. _Oh God I want to wash this all away; oh god it hurts, itai itai itai itai..._ All she wanted to do more than anything in her entire life was scour away every moment of this traumatizing experience; to sit under burning, scalding hot water until it flooded away everything under a torrential downpour of soap and lythe and detergent. She could never be clean from this human stain; she was marked, tainted, damaged; she wanted to scrub and scrub and scrub at that stain with a shower so hot that only the Fires of Hell could compare.

She labored to overcome it. It took her entire focus to shut out the pain; the sensation of blood dripping off her toes; the foreign sticky ichor dribbling down to her knee; wood scraping against bone; it was beyond and beyond. One by one, she forced the tactile inputs out of her mind, cutting off her consciousness, detaching herself from the dizzying stimuli. Toki dared not open her eyes, or else the visual intake would throw her into a spiraling tizzy. It took every last shred of concentration - it was harder than the one time she had completely regrown a shinigami's heart - but she taxed herself, ignoring the pain and the shame and the agony and bitter chill against her bared skin. She shut down to a nearly comatose state, preventing her mind from accepting physical and even emotional input as much as she could.

With a struggle, she forced the air through her lungs and up into her torn throat; pushing the short, shallow gusts of oxygen, carbon dioxide, argon, and other gases against her injured vocal chords; feeling them twitter and twang to form pitch and sound as the vibrations were then channeled and shaped by her tounge, teeth, and lips into low, soft words. It was the complex process of human speech that nearly everyone else took for granted as an autonomic reflex; but for Toki was a constant excercise in muscle and nerve coordination. With a perseverance and determination that she had rarely before felt, the words were given birth in reality as they exited her mouth. They were words she knew well.

_"Subsist from the void, create and live, give birth from nothingness - Begin the Universe, the Right Hand of God, Genesis the Creator,"_ she recited softly, releasing her zanpakutou. She wasn't holding it. It was under her pillow, where she put it when she slept. But she had such a strong telepathic link with her tanto that it didn't matter. She could feel it shrink into its pocket-sized utility knife form, and then she was ready.

_Heal,_ she commanded Genesis via her mind; and it listened against its will. The spears in her shoulders and knees began to be forced out of her body as Toyuki felt the grinding, churning sensation of her bones regrowing. Muscles and sinews reweaved themselves, knitting her nerves and capillaries and veins and tissue back into place, pushing out the foreign objects as there was no place for them left in the healing flesh. Her throat and vocal chords began to piece back together, slowly stitching themselves with a thread of reishi no wider than a molecule across. Toyuki's spleen and liver kicked into overdrive, creating and releasing new blood to replace that which she had lost. It was dehydrating, but it was better than dying.

The throbbing ache in her hymen disappeared (but not the ache in her heart) as it, too, pieced back together. Her mind began to try its best to undo the trauma, squelching the neurochemical transmitters that governed fear, flight, anguish, anger, and sadness; and stimulating the areas of the brain that induced peace, calmness, and relaxation. It would not remove the inflamed mental scar of victimization, but the ultra-high doses of seratonin and dopamine would soften it enough for her to function, at least for the short term.

Weak from this intense physical process, Toyuki collapsed to the floor as the last spear pinning her to the wall came loose from its purchase, and Toki yelped in pain as the fall pushed them back in even deeper. She shifted her weight until she was lying on her side, where she breathed in and out slowly as the process of ejecting the foreign objects began again. It was at least twenty minutes, but Toki was an extremely patient woman. Eventually, her zanpakutou powers won out; and she was in control of her body again. She was still severely dehydrated, and with a stumbling, awkward crawl, Toyuki wormed and skiddled until she reached the bathroom in her sleeping quarters. Her vision was intensely blurry and her head was swirling - she could barely see more than two inches in front of her in focus.

With nothing more on her mind than a desperate need to give her body sustenance so that it could continue regenerating, Toyuki hauled herself to her feet, bending over the sink until she could let the faucet flood her mouth with life-saving hydration. With her healing accelerated, Toyuki endured the physical sensation of her lymphatic system sucking up the water and pushing it through her circulatory system. Her vision was still extraordinarily cloudy, and her ears seemed to be inable to hear anything.

I need electrolytes, she reasoned. Salt. Sugar.

Her body restored with considerably more energy now that it had enough liquid to properly pump blood through her body, she walked as fast as she could without falling over to her refridgerator. She quickly swallowed some leftover smoked-salmon sushi and downed a small container of grapefruit juice. Her system responded nearly immediately, and her heart started pumping at an increased rate as she began to feel the renal valve in her kidneys open and inject ephedrine into her bloodstream. The adrenaline immediately shocked her into full-form function, and her vision and hearing were suddenly sucking in a dark night's world of stimuli. Her brain registered proper function, and the dozens of mathematical equations that made up her everyday consciousness fixed into place; clicking and ticking and spinning like a clockwork engine.

She was back from the dead.

Kyon!

Tokine rushed to his bed. His neck had been broken, and just like her, he had been left to die - but by an unusual twist of God's Fate he was still alive. His reishi was still there. His brain was dead, his heart was dead, but his soul was still there. As a human already phased into the 5th dimension, he was incredibly lucky - his soul was trying to phase laterally into the 5th but it was already there, so it was still in his body. Toki knew she had only moments left before the phase distortion would corrupt, but it was seconds that she was incredibly lucky to have.

She rushed quickly to her bed and seized her pocket knife from under her pillow. Jen -

_I cannot bring back the dead._

OH YES YOU CAN, Toki yelled back. Because he's not dead! DO IT!

_But -_

**_NOW!_**

_- There is nothing you can do but use your own life source, Kami-sama. You will have to give up half your life to give him half of his. Are you willing to give up three thousand years for him to have only fifty? Seventy?_

WHAT KIND OF RIDICULOUS QUESTION ARE YOU ASKING ME?

_Half your life is half of my life, too!_

That is what love is! I gave him my life a long time ago, Jen! Giving him only half of it isn't even the price I was already willing to pay!

_But-!_

_MOVE EARTH AND HEAVEN IF YOU HAVE TO, GENESIS, BEFORE I WALK IN THERE AND BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU -** REVIVE!**_, she commanded her pocket knife, and it was forced to obey. She flooded his body with reishi, resparking his brain, which resparked his autonomic system. His heart began to beat.

Thank Kami-sama, Toki thought. His spinal chord wasn't severed. This will be infinitely easier.

Over the next forty-five minutes, she mended his broken neck using standard healing kido, reoxygenated his bloodstream using mouth to mouth to pump air into his lungs; ignoring the stimulation of his facial hair against her face. She had used up too much reiatsu healing herself to exclusively use her zanpakutou, but normal medical kido was like breathing for Toyuki; and while it was slow, the progress was steady. She would need to use her zanpakutou to synthesize the pharmaceuticals needed to repair his myocardial infarction and other organ damage, since she didn't have immediate access to a 4th division emergency pharmacy kit; but the broken bones, cuts, scrapes, and bruises were easy. She removed the rubber ball from his mouth when it was safe to move his head, and anticipated him waking in about 2 hours, 13 minutes, and 26.6781116 seconds. He would likely have a crushing headache and a dry mouth, but at least he wasn't dead. Toki was positive he would much prefer a headache and cottony mouth than being cremated.

As soon as she had finished using Genesis to synthesize the last medicines he needed directly in his bloodstream, a horrifying thought popped into her mind: Oh no - Zarina-chan!

Toyuki took one last look at Kyon. He would be okay - thank God, thank God, thank God, he would be okay. She wouldn't be, but at least he would be fine.

She kissed his bloody face, quickly changed into a clean yukata, and dashed off.

* * *

_This chapter was challenging to edit - on several occasions I thought it was too graphic, and then after editing, felt it was too abstract given what actually happens. Hopefully I struck a balance that adequately describes the abased horror with a sense of measured restraint. Reviews would be greatly appreciated. Next chapter: A very unexpected but long overdue reunion._


	39. Chains of Hell

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. Lyrics from Flyleaf adapted under Fair Use.

* * *

_"What is bankai? I will tell you, Kanchi-kun. Some people will tell you that bankai is the ability to kill. Others will tell you that it is a heightened sense of awareness. You may hear that it is a deep understanding of your own soul. But in truth, that's just the bullshit people feed you because they can't describe it. Bankai is nothing more than an extreme readiness to fulfill your intended purpose - a complete absence of hesitation, a resolve so firm that it will never falter until you have accomplished your desires or changed them altogether._

_"If that means you must kill, then you must be ready to kill without question. If that means you must die, then you must be ready to die without regret. Yes, to achieve peace with these extremes, you need both a heightened sense of awareness and a deep understanding of your soul - but those are merely tangential results. The key to bankai is not to achieve zen, to perfect one's self, or to forsake all doubt. No, that is not what bankai could ever be, because then none of us shinigami captains would still be human; for humanity is about learning from the mistakes that you will inevitably make every day of your life, bankai or not._

_"No, I will tell you the secret of how to achieve bankai. It is not necessarily to sit for endless hours and fight your zanpakutou until your knuckles bleed. Of course, that's often how we do it - how we prove to ourselves that we can conquer even the worst parts of ourselves. But that's not the only way. The real key to bankai, Kanchi-kun, the real way to achieve that unwavering level of resolve, is to prove to yourself that you **are** what you actually **wish to be.**_

_"Now enough of this philosophic crap - come and drink some sake with your dear sweet Auntie K."_

_~Shiba Kuukaku, to her eldest niece, Shiba Kanchi of the infamous Shiba Triplets; nearly two centuries from now_

* * *

_[Hey, Kaa-sama - will the new baby know if it is a boy or a girl this time?]_  
_~Rukia's eldest child Hikaru, teasing her in anticipation of Rukia and Ichigo's second child;_  
_about 23 years into the future_

* * *

_"I can feel you all around me  
Your spirit in the air I'm breathing  
The sorrow in my heart is seething  
__But still I keep on believing_

_That I can feel you all around me  
Challenging this hopeless feeling  
Holding back my heart that's reeling  
Letting my soul glow with healing_

_'Cause I can feel you all around me  
Treasuring my life's devotion  
Memories a great vast ocean  
That will keep my life in motion"_

_~ House Quartet acapella group (Kuchiki Hisako, Banzo Sarashina, Shiba Kanchi, Shihoin Zarina),  
orchestrated and adapted from the original source material by Kuchiki Hikaru;_  
_commemorating life and accomplishments at the funeral of Kurosaki Karin_

* * *

_"Most girls your age have more... typical concerns. They're usually much more interested in boys than bankai. I'm just worried that you're missing out by not focusing on what could be good in your life. Your father and I were wondering if maybe you wanted us to arrange you to meet with someone. It might be good for you."_

_"Give me a break," Kanchi grumbled. "Are you kidding me? Yeah, Kaa, maybe some day, but why would I want to think about marriage right now? I mean, listen to Tancho-dee and Pancho-dummy - the two of them are constantly babbling and prattling on and on about getting married to this girl, to that girl, this one is so pretty, but this one has such big boobs, but this one can cook, but this one is rich... Why the hell would I want to emulate their nonsense?"_

_Omaeda Ina sighed. "Kanchi-rin," she said softly, "may I provide you with an observation?"_

_Kanchi wanted to snap 'no,' but she dared not be disrespectful to her mother. Her mother was her mother, and she treated her with respect at all times. "...Sure," she muttered half-heartedly, despite trying hard to be receptive._

_Ina kissed her daughter on her forehead. "In so many ways, you are just like me when I was your age. You spend so much time proving that you're not like the men in your family," she said. "And you're not. You're nothing like your brothers at all."_

_"...Thanks, Kaa," Kanchi replied sincerely. "I... I appreciate that."_

_Ina gave her daughter another kiss and opened the door to leave. "But maybe you should spend some time discovering who you are, rather than worry about who you are not."_

_Kanchi's eyes began to widen as her mother slowly closed the door to her room, leaving her alone. She thought about it for a moment, and then hastily retrieved Constantine from her sword rack. Within moments, she was deep in meditation._

_~A conversation between mother and daughter_

* * *

Toyuki was relieved to find Zarina-chan in bed, snoozing quietly. It appeared that her caretaker, Kainino-san, had fallen asleep reading her a story. Based on how she found them, they appeared to be undisturbed.

Mollified that there hadn't been a massacre, Toki returned her room, where she showered in scaldingly hot water; vigorously scrubbing every part of her body with a pumice. She soaked her body in the strongest soap she had, compulsively washed her hair five times, and shaved everything below her waist until there was nothing left but her mismatched skin.

Not satisfied with her inability to wash away the human stain left on her, a fury in her was stronger than anything she had ever imagined. Shihoin Tokine was normally incapable of rising to anger over anything - imprisonment, abandonment, betrayal. She had been through many awful experiences in her life. She had been victim to injustice before. It was as though she attracted all kinds of the worst trouble. _But someone had finally crossed a line._ She felt a need for vengeance. How she would achieve it, she did not know.

She could not kill. She could not hurt anyone. She was physically, spiritually, mentally, and generally emotionally incapable of inflicting pain or death. If she stepped on a bug, the very touch would harden its carapace until it could withstand her weight. If she stabbed someone in the chest, it wouldn't even hurt - in fact, it would do nothing more than lower their cholesterol.

Nonetheless, she donned her shinigami uniform and tucked her released zanpakutou into her pocket. The trail of reiatsu left from the attackers was extraordinarily faint - 2.34524 x 10E-17. They had clearly been experts at masking their reiatsu; no normal shinigami could detect such trace amounts of reishi in the air.

Shihoin Tokine was no normal shinigami. Her perceptory capabilities were easily a thousand times greater than normal, if not more.

She quickly wrote a note to Kyon: _Don't worry, I'm alive and okay and will be back soon. You'll be okay, I promise. It was all just a nightmare. I love you. Get some rest._

Selecting the thickest of the hazy strands of reiatsu in the air, she ran after her attackers as best she could in her awkward, untrained gallop.

-:-

The vast orchard of peach and plum trees were gone. They had vanished a long time ago. Instead, Momo now stood amongst a writhing mass of black iron chains; slithering and snaking with no room for her to move. She was tangled and tied, unable to do anything but watch the demonic claws ripping away at her soul; unable to scream through the morass of grinding iron clanking.

"MOMO!" Tobiume called, but it was beyond all hope. The chains had enveloped her; pulling her away and tearing her free from Momo's embrace. Kyouka Suigetsu had tried to resist, but the chains had taken him as well, and through his odd form of telepathic communication, Momo heard him grunt and groan and struggle against the inevitable fate.

The quaking, shivering, thundering rumble began, and Momo felt as though her intestines were being pulled out her throat as a shocking, ear-cringing, mangled grinding crunching tumbled through her bones. With a tense, taut pull, Momo could feel the unyielding strain against her hakusui. The pressure was a ripping, tearing, forceful, screaming tug on her soulchain, and with a horrifying **_SQULORCH_** the empty darkness poured in as Tobiume/Kyouka Suigetsu had been violently ripped out of her essence. An excruciating emptiness - a blank void of pure nothingness - flooded the empty cavity of her soul with an immeasurable despair.

Momo sobbed in anguish as it dawned upon her that every last shred of hope and self-empowerment had been cruelly torn out. The feeling of optimism; the idea that there was potential for good in the world, that there was some possibility that the future may hold something better than today - it was no longer a part of her spiritual, mental, or physical composition. There was no ambition to build a better world, no desire for anything, no sense of turning wrong into right, no hope nor faith nor belief - just emptyness, an emptyness built of grief and bitter indifference.

_There is no god and there is no virtue,_ Momo thought. _There is nothing here. There is nothing in a shinigami's life but death and suffering._

With the severing of her crimson ribbon from its base of operations - the zanpakutou - Momo was a plus without a chain. She had moments before what was left of her spat-on soul would deteriorate into the dark future of a hollow.

But in an odd twist of fate, she was spared by the very cruel hand that had killed her.

-:-

He had done it!

He had finally done it!

A successful zanpakutou extraction! It was unbelievable! After sixteen attempts, he had finally succeeded!

Carefully, Q carefully studied the soulcore extension that had been extracted from his subject. He carefully monitored its reishi input/output flow, its density, its spectral ratios, its molecular composition and its amplicore distortion. It was only six and a half seconds until it died and dissipated, and whatever had been in the sword before was now gone.

_Fascinating,_ Q thought as he analyzed the data. The extraction process had been extraordinarily difficult; but he had at last definitively established the precise mechanisms and necessary reishiological catalysts which bound the soulcore into an external object. He was sure he could now replicate the bonds, and armed with that information, he could finally proceed.

As an afterthought, he picked up the now-dissassembled, lifeless blade of Hinamori Momo. "You know, I forgot, but Nakatsu said that Sheldon wanted me to maim and kill you, too. You're going to die soon enough, but there's no harm in maiming you first, I suppose."

Q lifted the straight metal tang, the only piece of the katana that still resembled a sword, and left his mark with the skill of an unconcerned surgeon performing a biopsy. Many decades later, shinigami who met the fearsome Hinamori Momo would whisper and murmur to each other, wondering what unknown event gave birth to Hinamori Momo's artificial eye and the ringed scar around the socket.

"Speaking of the devil, I better go find him! I need him to get me a new sword to work with," he said happily. Turning to the quivering body next to him, chained down to the table with a metal blade sticking out of its face, he said his goodbyes. "Thanks for everything, Lieutenant Hinamori! Such a shame, you were a real cutie. But look at it this way - now they'll all know of you as Momo, the Mother of God! Cool, huh?"

With that, he eagerly looked forward to seeing Sheldon. Hopefully, Sheldon will have finally gotten his hands on that national treasure that Q needed.

-:-

Nakatsu laughed from amidst his fiery, burning body. "A giant boomerang? What an ineffectual weapon."

Ichihime snorted. Shiji's shikai form was firm in her grip, her knuckles white around the cutouts that let her hold it as though it were an oversized scimitar. "You think so, douche bag? Prove it."

Nakatsu came at her like a ball of blue flame, his spiky, hook-like protrusions aimed at her jugular. It was a pathetic shot, and Ichihime easily raised her shikai in a two-handed crossbar shield maneuver. His foot, however, surprisingly snuck up underneath, and with a midair twist, Nakatsu's foot planted itself on the inside crook of her boomerang. With a grunt, his twist forced up her shikai, and with Ichihime holding onto it, the end result was that she was jettisoned upwards. Nakatsu's maneuver had flung her up into the sky, her back totally exposed.

Ichihime was completely off balance. Her restrictive kimono kept her from a twist and counterstrike. _Shit!_

Nakatsu's flash-infused blow missed the small of her back, but it tore out a portion of her side. The force of it smacked Ichihime around in a circle as she fell back down to earth, managing to 360 the flat of her boomerang into Nakatsu's skull as she bit her lip to prevent screaming in pain. It struck him hard across the face; enough to buy her a few seconds to take the fall.

With a ferocious thud, Ichihime landed in the grass on her tailbone. The shock carried up her spine and rattled her head, but she quickly recovered. Her side was bleeding badly - just as badly as her face - but she got to her feet in time to raise her boomerang again to deflect a powerful kick as Nakatsu came down from his aerial charge.

Flashing as fast as she could in a desperate attempt to gain some space, Ichihime was trying to find a good position. This guy was fast, and for the first time in a while, Ichihime worried she had been outmatched. Maybe I overdid it on the cockiness, she gathered.

Ichihime set loose a chain of _Shots of Crimson Fire_ for cover, and then jet-propelled herself off a stone pillar in the courtyard to triangulate. With centrifugal force added, she hurled her shikai straight at Nakatsu from the side, who had not picked up on her redirection tactic fast enough.

_"Erupt, Shiji!"_

The timing was perfect - the moment her boomerang struck him, it exploded like a barrel full of gunpowder. Rematerializing in her hand, she hurled it again at him, repeating the strike over and over as she dashed around him in circles. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen explosions, but Nakatsu still stood; his body charred. The explosive force had even put out the blue fire from the sheer volume of escaping gas.

What a fucking beast, she thought. Doesn't this guy know how to get hurt?

Now would be a perfect time for me not to screw up a bakudo spell, Ichihime muttered to herself. She was potent in hado but her bakudo sucked shit. _"Bakudo #4: Crawling Rope!"_ Thankfully, the spell didn't fizzle, and Nakatsu was ensnared - but it wasn't strong enough to hold him. After about six to seven seconds, he had burst the restraints open.

Goddamnit, I really need to practice my bakudo, she muttered.

Prepared to hurl Shiji again, Ichihime hesitated - there was someone else in the courtyard!

_...Shihoin_-dono? she made out. _Tokine-san, what the fuck are you doing here?_

Nakatsu looked puzzled as a small, lavender-haired shinigami - one he thought he had raped and killed - had just stabbed him in the testicles with a small pocket knife. What puzzled him more than the fact that she was alive and whole, though, was that being stabbed in the testicles didn't hurt one bit. No pain, no bleeding - not even the sensation of the blade entering and exiting. He knew he had been struck, but it was as if he had been struck by a noncorporeal phantasm. It had no effect.

In the meanwhile, Tokine took the distraction and ran as fast as she could in a clumsy trot until she was behind Ichihime.

"What the fuck?" Ichihime swore as Toki cowered behind her. "You just nailed him in the _nuts_ and he didn't feel a thing?"

"_Hai,_ Fukutaicho," she answered in full-military formality. "My zanpakutou is incapable of causing injury."

Ichihime was instantly frustrated as Nakatsu, who seemed nigh invincible at this point, began to approach with a sickeningly cruel smile. "So then what the fuck did you do that for?"

"I used Genesis to create mutated cormorant beetle larvae in his scrotum."

Ichihime gave her a blank stare. "You did _what?_"

The dark and dour look in Shihoin Tokine's eyes was one of cold, bitter vengeance. It was a rare occasion that she ever reflected emotion on her face. "My zanpakutou can create life. And although I cannot induce pain, I can create something that will - right... about... _now_."

Nakatsu gasped and stopped moving, suddenly clutching his crotch and falling to his knees; shuddering in violent, searing pain. Inside his body, rapidly growing larvae were slowly eating his flesh from the inside and excreting nerve-flaring toxins as waste products - directly into the most sensitive area of his anatomy. Nakatsu seized up in consummated, unmitigated agony - groaning with a pallor that matched the moonlight as his eyes bugged out of his head in mind-melting torture.

_"Go to Hell, you Fuckbag!"_ Ichihime called, reverting Shiji back to tanto form. Taking advantage of Nakatsu's immobility, she rammed Shiji straight into his diaphram using the full momentum of a shunpo-induced charge. It struck him like a train, splintering his rib cage on impact as she carried him through the air until he slammed against one of the courtyard's stone columns.

"Hey Assface," Ichihime grinned seditiously. "Here's a trick I learned from a fellow vice captain."

She didn't even need to command it this time, and her tanto morphed into a boomerang, its small size expanding until it cut a giant hole up out his shoulder and down through his ribs. Ichihime was sure that she had sliced his liver in half and burst his spleen and pancreas.

"But here is where I make Hisagi-san jealous: _Erupt._"

With a catankerous _BOOM_, the explosion blew Nakatsu to kingdom come from the inside out, splattering Ichihime with chunks of his face and chest and stomach, making a disgusting mess out of him - and her, for that matter.

"_Ewww,_ gross," Ichihime muttered, standing up straight - only to fall over.

-:-

_A sword!_

It was the only thing that could save Hinamori - a place to perform proper soul infusion. Usually, it was something that a shinigami only did once. They received their asauchi in Shinou Academy, and then they could slowly infuse their soul into it, eventually learning their zanpakutou's name.

Hinamori had a distinct advantage of already knowing the neuroreishiological connection once before, and it was either do or die. With whatever was left of her rotten, miserable, tortured soul of hatred, Momo channeled everything she had into the blade thrust through her brain. It was her only hope (if the word hope could be something she could consciously conceive of, anyway). If it was her zanpakutou, her very own zanpakutou - not only would she avoid the dire threat of becoming a hollow, but she would also have her life spared by twist of fate: a zanpakutou cannot harm its owner without permission, at least not in unreleased physical form outside the inner world. No matter if there was blade in her brain or not, if it was her zanpakutou, it could not harm her against her will.

And so she flooded it with everything she had. She knew what she must do: she must drive her soul into it with the strongest force she could imagine: hatred. Hatred, strong and burning and cruel; a searing hatred of life and the living and the world and everything in it that had betrayed her. There was nothing good in this world, no hope and no virtue, just evil and death and dying and darkness and sin and cruelty.

And so Zankokuseishin was born. It saved her life, but damned her all the same.

-:-

Tokine was swiftly at Ichihime's side, applying healing kido to seal the wounds in her face and side. Standard stab wounds; trivial for Toki. Nothing like what she had done for herself and her soulmate only a mere half hour before.

"Thanks," Ichihime groaned, allowing the cool, soothing energy to wrap over her. Nice to have a medic around. I should have Makina-chan learn this stuff. I suck so bad at medical kido I would probably just hurt myself.

She could hear Adame's voice in the background. "Ichihime-sama!"

"Over here," she coughed. She felt better already. Mrs. Robotto was good.

_"Now I know you're better,"_ the leathery gargoyle standing over her teased. _"You're back to giving people stupid nicknames."_

Eh, shut yer piehole.

_"You can finally see me out here and that's all you gotta say to me? What is your obsessions with pieholes, anyway?"_

Shiji?

_"Yes?"_

She smiled wearily. Thanks.

He looked at her funny. _"For what?"_

Never mind, she thought. Just something I need to do now.

He shrugged, not really sure what she was talking about. _"Whatever, Hime-sama."_

"Ichihime-sama! Are you okay?" Adame asked as he appeared in her field of vision.

She grunted as she sat up. "Are you going to keep using that ridiculous -sama honorific even after we get married?" she teased wearily.

Adame laughed. What a woman. "I take it you're alright, Ichihime-sama."

"Is Makina-chan alright?"

"I'm fine, Ichihime-sama," Makina said from outside her field of vision. "But you look terrible."

"I would be terrible, if not for Shihoin-dono over here. Looks like she had a fight to pick with him, too."

"_Hai,_ Fukutaicho," Toki saluted in agreement.

Ichihime tilted her head to the side, amused. Shihoin Tokine was an interesting character indeed. "C'mon, soldier. Let me serve you some tea. You can stay here tonight. We'll call your House and let them know you're with us."

The robotic woman seemed to be overjoyed at being called a soldier, and saluted again before following the princess into her manor.

-:-

Kyon grabbed the phone from the Shihoin servant, impatient. "Toki! Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Do you want me to come and get you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"_Rest,_ Kyon."

He was startled by the fact that she had said something other than yes or no. "Uh... okay. As long as you're okay."

He handed the phone back to Hitori-majordomo. Tonight was like a nightmare, just as she had written to him - but somehow he had the odd feeling like he had woken up and known that it was all just a bad dream.

-:-

"Ichihime-sama, under the circumstances, are you sure you don't want me stay?"

"Of course I want you to stay, Adame-kun. And that is precisely the reason I am sending you home."

He grinned at her. "You mean why _Hoshimura-majordomo_ is sending me home."

She playfully shoved him. "Oh, get out of here, you rascal," she laughed. _I have something I need to do, and it can't wait any longer._

-:-

A cleanup crew approached the body on the table. They kept their opinions to themselves. They were told to dispose of the body, no questions asked.

As soon as they had unchained one of the hands, though, the woman with the blade in her head came to life like she was back from the dead. Swiftly, her hand shot out, seized the first attendant by the throat, and squeeezed it with a force violent enough to tear his head off, and smashed it repeatedly into the table before throwing him to the floor. Seizing the shaft of her zanpakutou - at the moment, nothing more than the tang of a katana - she pulled it out, its edges cutting painlessly into her palm and fingers; she allowed it to bleed. Just because she didn't care.

The attendant crew panicked as the blade came free from the zombie's face, and with a scream of pure violence, the sword then found home in another attendant's chest. The lab was thrown into chaos as the remaining two crew members stumbled over equipment in shock, and Hinamori undid the chain restraint across her other hand. With two hands free, she used kido to burn off the chains across her ankles and knees, and ripped off the various electrodes and the suction cups across her breasts. She removed the catheter and the needles in her arms and chest, relieved that whatever anesthetic he had used to prevent her from breathing had worn off, and she sucked in hungry gobs of air to inflate her exhaused lungs. She then immediately applied healing kido to her face; enough to keep her from bleeding to death or to suffer swelling of the brain.

Cold - both physically and mentally - she retrieved her new zanpakutou from the corpse it was now in; and then mercilessly slaughtered the remaining crew members, not giving a shit as she cut their throats - twice, just because she felt like it. She retrieved her shinigami uniform and her underthings, which had been thrown into a bin on the other side of the lab, and then hastily got dressed. Putting the scabbard into the sash of her obi, she tucked the blade into it. For obvious reasons, it fit; but the metal shaft sticking out was rather ugly; and a bare, flat metal bar made for a poor grip. Forming a new image of a hilt in her mind - a black collar and a handle made of Hell's chains - she tore a chunk of flesh off one one the dead men's faces, and wrapped it around the shaft as a gory substitute for a leather wrap. With her mind forcing a mold, and the simple presence of physical material capable of meeting that mental image, the new handle took place. The bleeding tissue hardened into metal and stretched and twisted until her zanpakutou was a proper katana again, complete with a new handle and crossguard.

Satisfied, Hinamori the Cruel left the laboratory with very little purpose other than to get to the 4th division infirmary. Then she could find Q - but first, she needed to be at full strength. Torturing him with anything less than 100% wouldn't be fair punishment.

-:-

It had been a wonderful vacation. The celebration of Isshin's first grandchild left him with an immeasurably warm glow of happiness. Life had been so hard for his son and third daughter, and now they finally received their due. Hikaru-chan was adorable. Her crystal green eyes were incredible - he had never seen anything like them in his many centuries. Ichigo and Rukia couldn't have done better.

Now, the house was finally quiet. Ichigo and Rukia had gone to his apartment by the hospital; they would be staying there so Ichigo could return to work but be close by for the baby. Rukia would be staying for a few days - it had been a surprise to see in her a gigai, but she wanted to get Hikaru officially registered as Ichigo's daughter in Japan. They had no idea how often she would spend time in the World of the Living, but it was something that Rukia felt she was obligated to do. It was obvious that Hikaru would live in Soul Society - unlike any theoretical half-human biological offspring of their union, she didn't have any anatomical or phsyiological connection to the Living - but Rukia didn't want Ichigo to feel like he was short-changed. Not that she thought he would, but better to give her a Living Identity anyway, just in case. Besides, it would give Ichigo good reason for why he had been out for the past few days.

Yuzu had taken the late train back home, Karin and Toshiro had gone to a nearby hotel (Isshin didn't even bother to suggest that they should stay here), and his younger sister Kuukaku and her husband Byakuya had gone back home to Soul Society. Ichigo's friends had left a long time ago, and while Isshin was sad to not have Chad with them anymore, he was glad to see that Orihime looked infinitely better. Ishida might actually be able to go back to med school next semester.

And so the not-so-big-but-beginning-to-feel-too-big-anyway Kurosaki house was empty. He was finishing up with the dishes, soaking in the remnants of the good turn in life. Moments of true happiness and cheer were far apart in the lives of shinigami. Ever since Masaki had died, the Kurosaki home had been under a bit of a spell. But Hikaru-chan was the sign that they had all survived. There was a new generation. She would even bear Masaki's family name, even if only when she was here on Earth. And although Masaki had rich brown eyes, Hikaru had almost the same hair color. It was a bit darker; almost as if it had Rukia's raven Kuchiki genes mixed in with Ichigo's orange ones. Whether that was **F**ate or simply **f**ate, he didn't know; but it was nice to think about nonetheless.

Shiba Isshashine, known to nearly everyone as Kurosaki Isshin, had just finished the dishes and was going to sit down and fall asleep in front of the television - at least until what happened next. The former Royal Guard member practically feared for his life when he saw who came through a senkai gate that opened in his living room. He was so stunned that he dropped his glass of diet soda all over the carpet, and didn't even move one inch. As an ex-captain-class shinigami, Isshin had little reason to fear anyone; whether they be human, hollow, or shinigami.

But _this_ shinigami was different - _this_ one could kill him. Banzo Ichihime had every right to do so, and he knew it.

"Banzo-dono," he greeted cautiously. If she was anything like her father, she wouldn't have any objection to stewing his nuts just to flavor her tea.

"Shiba-san," she stared. Isshin wondered if the -san suffix was a conscious attempt on her part to strip him of his noble roots, or merely an acknowledgement of the simple man he had become.

"Uh, this is, uh, unexpected."

She said nothing, her firm gaze plastered to him. He was unsure of what her intentions were.

The most distinctive element of her presentation was her wrists. Her arms bore a set of stunning black bracers - astonishingly elegant ones that still glowed with an ominous aura of I-can-kick-your-ass-in-style. They matched an equally mysterious pearl tanto scabbard that was sticking out from a spot behind her back. He tried to compare what he saw now to how he had last remembered her.

The years had been good to her. She was still quite young when he had been betrothed to her from afar, and back then she had only been recently out of Shinoi Academy. Now, she was clearly quite hardened, with well-defined muscle tone that came from many years of intense combat missions. Isshin had remembered her face clearly - as distinct as it was, it was easy to remember - but it had softened and matured; and if you could overlook her complexion (not easy to do) you could see that she was an attractive woman. Her figure was less girly and more womanly; but he had never seen her outside of a traditional kimono or yukata before. Her nonstandard shinigami uniform, a pair of slimline hakama and a modest elastic top that left her shoulders exposed along with a small portion of her midriff, certainly made it easier to digest.

He was not surprised to see that she had discolorations on other parts of her body as well, but the overall impression was that Banzo Ichihime had not let that rule her. The woman in front of him seemed confident - or at the very least, assured of her own skill. A vice captain's badge that he could barely make out over her shoulder - it appeared to be tied to her back - was an indication of her success.

She looked at him coldly. "You sent me to ruin, Shiba-san."

He winced. The remark was so true and direct that it still stung him, even after all these years. "...I did."

"You destroyed me. You destroyed my father."

Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far, he thought. But Isshin wasn't going to express that particular retort out loud. Whatever traits Banzo Ichihime had picked up from her father - a fucked-up mess long before Isshin met him - Isshin had no doubt that he had personally delivered Ichihime the baggage she carried.

_"Have you nothing to say to me! ?"_ she shouted suddenly.

"No," he answered promptly and sincerely. "Because nothing I could say to you could ever apologize for what I did."

She paused with pursed lips - but at last she sighed and seemed to back down. Her intense stare, however, remained bolted to his brow. "By Soul Society law, you owe me your life."

Isshin was very cautious. "...That may be so, but I can't let you have it."

"I don't want it," she fired back. "I am not so petty."

Now _that_ was an interesting discovery. Perhaps he had been quick to assume that Banzo Ichihime had taken after her father. "...What did you come here for?"

"To call in my debt," she asserted.

"Uh... Sorry, but I'm a bit confused."

Ichihime looked away from him for a moment, and then sighed again. Isshin could have sworn that he had seen Byakuya do that particular mannerism in exactly the same way. "I have been asked for my hand in marriage."

Isshin immediately put on his goofy face, hoping to ease the tension. "Congratulations! Who's the lucky man?"

She eyed him cautiously. His silly aura was... unexpected. "Nikayui Adame; sixth son of Nikayui Tesho of the Upper Court's Nikayui Family."

His eyes widened. "Is he nice?" I don't know the kids at all, but I knew the mom in the Royal Guard. Nikayui Shirani was always a _spectacular_ bitch.

"Yes," she said casually. "Remarkably so. A diamond in a sea of glass impostors. He is considerate, attentive, caring, and sensitive. Nothing like you, in fact."

Isshin laughed. Serves me right. "That's great! I wish you all the best," he answered before switching his tone to one much more serious. "But you honestly didn't come here to talk to me about that, did you?"

She glanced at him sideways. He was, as expected, as clever as his reputation. "No, I did not."

"Then what is it?" he asked her, locking his gaze upon her. He needed to get to the point.

Ichihime hesitated. "My father is dead. I am a Head of House now."

Isshin eyebrows lifted in surprise. Banzo Ichihime had to be the youngest Head of House in recent memory. She was what, only 137 years old? Somewhere in that vicinity. Most Heads of House were at least 200 before they were even considered to take over their House. Of course, if her father was dead, she had no choice. "So to what do I owe the honor of a visit from a Head of House, then?" he asked, only half-serious considering that he had been one once upon a time himself.

The fiery eyes of Banzo Ichihime bore down on him with the smoldering scorn of a woman who would not be sent home empty-handed again. "A Head of House cannot remain a vice captain forever, Shiba Isshashine - and you owe me. _Teach me bankai._"

* * *

_FYI, 'Zankokuseishin' is a rough translation of "Cruel Spirit". And there are no such things as cormorant beetles, at least as far as I am aware._

_Reviews would be greatly appreciated! There's lots of stuff to comment on - c'mon, speak up! I'm curious to hear what y'all think about Momo's developments and the cold reunion at the end of this chapter.  
Next chapter: We finally begin to approach the lead-up to the Session for Aristocracy - can the shinigami gain access to Q and his co-conspirator? The pressure mounts - and what is it that Q is looking for?_


	40. Tales of Two Soldiers

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_Nanao wasn't sure if she should be fretting like a worried mother. Nanao could see across the field that Kuukaku was; and Kanchi was only her niece. Nanao wasn't worried about Kohei - her son was practically a masochist and loved to fight - but she wondered about Kanchi-san. It was the first time that the two delta-zanpakutou-wielding lieutenants had dueled against each other, and Nanao was sure it would come to shikai. Nanao wondered if Kanchi really knew what it was like to get hit by Vindictus. On the other hand, if Kanchi-san's shikai hit anything but air - even once - it would probably ruin Kohei's chances. Two hits from Constantine, and the 11th division lieutenant would undoubtedly lose. Badly._

_"It will be a tie," Sarashina told her._

_Nanao gave her lieutenant a puzzled look. "How do you know?"_

_"It's rigged. No shikai, either. It will be a tie."_

_"Huh?" Nanao asked. "Why would they do that?"_

_Sarashina shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Kanchi-rin is doing Hisagi-kun a favor."_

_"What kind of favor would involve a rigged duel?"_

_"Hisagi-kun is going to fight like a gentleman. He wants Kuchiki Fukutaicho to see that he's not always such a mean-spirited barbarian."_

_Nanao groaned. "Are you serious?" She was going to have to talk to Shuuhei. Shuu was going to need to remind their son - who was the perfect blend of both of their darkest, meanest, most bloodthirsty secrets - that he would be better off sending Hisako-chan flowers and chocolates. Not that it would ever matter. The possibility that Kuchiki Hisako would let herself be courted by a commoner - a son of a Stranded One and a brothel house boy, no less - was so much less than zero that numbers couldn't even quantify it. Heaven, her son could be dumber than a brick when he thought with the wrong head. "Dear god, are all boys this stupid?"_

_Sarashina shrugged. "Not all. Vojiro-niisan isn't so bad. But Kanchi-rin would agree with your sentiment. She certainly got the better end of the deal: in exchange, Kohei-kun is going to, ahem, 'beat the crap out of' Pancho-kun and Tancho-kun for leaving a troop of live frogs in Kanchi-rin's underwear drawer."_

_Nanao couldn't help herself. She stood up and yelled at the top of her lungs, because at heart, she was a vicious, vindictive servant of Hell; and embarassing her grown son in front of his division seemed like the perfect way to stick it to him. "HISAGI KOHEI - AFTER YOU KICK TANCHO AND PANCHO'S ASS, YOU'RE GROUNDED!"_

_~ True story, circa 196 years from now_

* * *

_Byakuya entered the sitting room to find Kuukaku moping with a very large bottle of sake in hand. "Kuukaku-san - what is the matter?"_

_She looked up at him, only noticing his presence by the fact that he was talking to her. "Hisako-chan and Hikaru-chan got into a fight. Hisako-chan called Hikaru-chan a 'tomboy baka', so Hikaru-chan called Hisako-chan a 'boring bossy poopyface who talks like an even-more-boring grandmother'. Hisako-chan freaked out and came running to me. She's in her room now in timeout."_

_Byakuyta did not understand. "As far as I am aware, such verbal exchanges among children at this age are common and easily forgotten. What is the reason for your consternation?"_

_Kuukaku sighed and looked up at him with a heavy weight on her shoulders. "Hisako-chan's translator was in the bathroom."_

_Byakuya's eyes snapped open in astonishment._

_"She understood Hikaru-chan's sign language, Byakuya-san."_

_Byakuya blanched. No wonder his daughter freaked out. "But- but she's only 15! She's not even old enough to start formal schooling yet!"_

_"I know," Kuukaku said, passsing Byakuya the bottle. He declined as expected, although he admittedly looked like he wanted some. "But she has the gift of tongues, Byakuya-san. You know what that means."_

_He shook his head in disbelief. This was not happening. He wondered which was more irresponsible - giving a preschooler a katana, or leaving it up to chance for her to accidentally seal a butter knife during dinner. "We need to get her a zanpakutou."_

_~ The origin of Kuchiki Hisako, The Prodigy _

* * *

_"Wow, that hurt - nice technique, Mom. Where did you learn that move?"_

_"The vertical pinwheel off of a 240 toe twist?"_

_"Yeah, Okaasama, that one."_

_"Eh, picked it up from Youtube. Just search on 'breakdancing'. It's the first one."_

_~Conversation between 10th division lieutenant Banzo Vojiro and his mother Ichihime, during personal training sometime in the future _

* * *

Isshin was duly impressed - Banzo was no ordinary shinigami. That made sense, considering that she was Byakuya's lieutenant; but seeing her in action was another matter altogether.

They were journeying to Urahara's to make use of his basement when they not surprisingly stumbled across a hollow. Banzo had measurable reiatsu and it wasn't a shock that she attracted the monsters here in Karakura's accelerated breeding grounds. What was a shock was how remarkably acrobatic she was - it was now clear why she chose such a tight-fitting uniform. It was to avoid restricting her mobility.

With a rolling dive, she had darted through the hollow's legs, tucked her tanto through a loop in her sandal, and backflipped. The centrifugal force threw the blade of the knife past the edge of her foot, turning the vertical arc of her leg into a samurai-slice that lopped the creature's leg off. With a sockhop, the tanto was flung back into Ichihime's hand like a ballerina with a chainsaw; and she pounced off the hollow's tail to flip-force her to the beast's shoulder, where she rode it like a bull, jamming her tanto into the monster's head while it shook around like an enraged colossus. With a Hado #32 Yellow Fire Flash at point blank range to the base of the skull, she blew the damned thing's head clean off, landing neatly on her feet and springing back beside him with shunpo. The whole slaying took no more than six seconds and they didn't even skip a beat on the way.

"Nice job," Isshin complimented her.

"As if I do any other kind, Diarrhea Breath," she snorted.

Isshin chuckled. What a spitfire.

-:-

"That's quite a story," Urahara said from behind his ridiculous hat-and-fan. Ichihime wondered why he would voluntarily wear the most absurd outfit in the world of the living. On the other hand, she didn't understand her aunt Yoruichi's sorry warddrobe choices either. Even Shiba's hideous Hawaiian shirt was better than her hiding only half of her Onmitsukido uniform with a bright orange gi vest. Seriously, who the hell wears bright orange when they work in the Covert Ops?

Personally, Ichihime wouldn't be caught dead in a gigai. The World of the Living was for the living. She was perfectly fine in a shinigami uniform, and if not that, a yukata or the occasional kimono for special occasions would be just fine. The only Earthly pleasure she indulged in was that she owned an elegant Western white ball dress, which her father had bought for her in London once. She remembered that she always felt like a real princess when she wore it, which was silly because she _was_ a real princess already, anyway.

Admittedly, though, she was tempted to try jeans one of these days. Shorty-senpai told her that they were the only decent thing in Earth's wardrobe. If the Grand Lady of the Kuchiki House would wear them, there must be something to it.

Yoruichi ran her fingers through her hair. This was all her fault. She shouldn't have left Toki home by herself. What a mess. "Don't you think you're rushing this a bit?" Yoruichi asked her. "A night's rest would be advisable."

_Don't tell me what to do; you're not my mother,_ Ichihime thought, and although she hadn't intended to transmit that sentiment, Yoruichi seemed to intercept it anyway. That made Ichihime feel extraordinarily guilty. Yoruichi was the only connection she had to her mother at all.

Ichihime's mother Yohana had committed suicide while Ichihime was in utero; her father had saved her by performing an emergency C-section. The poison Yohana had ingested was what had given Ichihime the signature flaws in her complexion; the ugly, hairy, saucer-sized moles that littered her body and the blotchy red mottled mess on her face and ear. She had asked Yoruichi several times why her mother had done such a thing; Yoruichi never had an answer. Yoruichi's younger sister had always been depressed, and there were only few occasions that she ever seemed satisfied with her life.

Ichihime thought of the one picture she had of her parents together in which they had both been smiling. It was a photograph from a Session for Artistocracy, her father in his royal blue robe over and his white Banzo House yukata and her mother, complete with green ribbon in her albinism-bleached Shihoin hair of fading lavender. She was smiling next to him, looking very much the happy couple.

It was the only visual evidence she had that her parents had actually been in love. Considering that their arranged marriage had been a forecast for catastrophe, it was a stupefying result. Yoruichi would only say that she was glad her father Tamanaka had never considered giving his elder daughter to Banzo Tanabi, because there was no way Yoruichi ever could have tolerated Tanabi. Ichihime didn't find that surprising. They would have been a terrible match; both were far too strong-willed.

Ichihime closed her mind off from the past. It was unimportant now. "I don't have much time, Yoruichi-obasama," Ichihime argued, remembering last-minute to tuck her princess speech into place in front of her aunt. "The Session for Aristocracy is nearly upon us. I do not wish to be unprepared for whatever other threats may be thrown my way."

Yoruichi protested. "C'mon, Ichihime-chan, you're more than capable of taking care of yourself. At least wait until morning."

Ichihime bowed politely at the comment, but she didn't feel that way. She felt grossly inadequate, actually. Nakatsu had been more than she could handle by herself, and that bothered her. Ichihime didn't have a hero complex - she didn't have to be the Queen Protector of the whole world - but the day she couldn't defend herself was a bad day indeed. "I am prepared to proceed," she answered firmly, standing up to her elder.

The reinstated 2nd division captain sighed. "Alright, suit yourself. In any case, I need to see Toki-san right away. Kisuke and I will inform the Soutaicho."

-:-

Isshin scratched his head. Banzo was upside-down in a perfect handstand, except instead of being on her hands, she was balancing on the tip of her tanto's knifepoint. Her balance was astonishing. "That really can't be the most comfortable position, is it?"

"Munch on a sack of horse shit, you yellow-toothed rectum-nosed geezer with an incontinence problem," Ichihime spat at him. "You're ruining my concentration."

"No need to be so hostile," he grumbled, yawning.

She opened her eyes and glared at him.

Okay, perhaps some hostility is warranted. "Okay, okay, I'll be quiet. Just focus. After you're done meditating, we'll move into practicals."

"Dig for chocolate in cow pies with your tongue and _shut up!_"

-:-

3rd Seat Iemura gasped in stomach-seizing shock when a ghastly vision of a walking corpse stumbled into the 4th division infirmary and collapsed.

"LIEUTENANT DOWN!" he shouted. "Get a stretcher in here stat! Call Unohana Taicho!"

Moving swiftly, a small crew hoisted up the petite lieutenant and placed her onto a rolling hospital bed. They tried to take her zanpakutou to place it into a healing chamber, but she adamantly refused to let go of it, viciously fighting and smacking the hands of anyone who tried to touch it. Iemura ordered them to leave it and just get her hooked up to fluids.

Hinamori Momo was a complete mess. Her face and uniform were doused in blood, and a massive hole had been cut into the left side of her face. It was a complete miracle that she was still alive. From what he could deduce, rough kido had been applied to stretch skin over and into the socket in order to prevent bleeding and further infection, but she was going to need serious transplantive surgery. It also appeared that the top of her head was still bleeding from a nasty gash, perhaps what had been the exit wound going all the way up her head.

Thinking quickly, Iemura grabbed a surgical shaver and sheared her hair off to get a better look at the cut. On the top, it was badly infected, even though the wound looked fresh. It appeared that in a desperate attempt to save herself, Hinamori must have forgotten to run a disinfectant pass and gone straight to tissue regeneration. This inadvertently accelerated the bacterial growth, because the wound looked too fresh for this kind of rotting infestation.

With a surgical suction needle, he withdrew the pus from the wound to relieve pressure, re-opened it, and realized that this was way out of his league. The cut had gone straight through to the brain, and by all accounts, she should have been beyond dead. Only Unohana Taicho or Kotetsu Fukutaicho would be able to handle this kind of injury, and the latter was on her honeymoon vacation.

"Iemura San Seki!" one of the crew said. "Reishi scans are abnormal! She's clearly been overdosed with reishi stabilizers - metrics are reporting almost zero reishi variance - almost fifty standard deviations below average!"

_"What?"_ he asked. How the hell was that possible? Was she attacked inside a mobile hospital unit, and she raided the pharmaceuticals? In any case, that was probably the only thing that was keeping her alive. "Run a full toxicology report - we need to know the details."

"Already drawn blood, sir!" another crew member indicated.

Unohana charged in at that moment and gasped. Iemura knew it was bad when Unohana looked distressed. "Hinamori-san!"

Iemura explained to her what he knew, and they quickly set up for surgery.

-:-

Holy fucking crap, Ichihime swore, burning and sweating and roasting alive as the massive energy blast curled around and over the edges of her giant boomerang that quivered in her hands. Goddamnit, Shiji - can't you freakin' hold still?

_I just got hit by a Getsuga Tenshou from the Hero of the Winter War's Royal Guard father! I'm saving your sorry ass, you ungrateful princess!_

You're not saving my ass, you're holding out on me!

_I am not!_

Goddamnit then, give me bankai, you little shit!

_What the fuck, you think I know?_

YOU'RE A FUCKING ZANPAKUTOU, OF COURSE YOU KNOW, YOU WANNABE DEMON!

_Well I don't have a clue, so you figure it out, **you wannabe princess!**_

Ichihime grunted as she took moon fang after moon fang. That asswipe promise-breaker had been firing them at her nonstop for the past twenty-three minutes and she couldn't break through. The cutting reiatsu was insanely powerful - it was no wonder Aizen had fallen to Kurosaki's signature move. And to think that this wasn't even a shikai-enabled one, let alone the bankai-powered hollow-infused blow that Kurosaki Jr cut loose against that megalomaniac, she mused. Ichihime had planted herself into the ground, tucked behind her shikai; if any blow dislodged her defensive stance it would throw her over one of the many cliffs in Urahara-san's basement in Karakura.

_Hey, Hime-sama, you better do something, 'cause I'm dying over here!_

Kiss my ass, you little runt! You can't die on me yet!

-:-

Ichihime panted, out of breath and worn. Isshin appeared to be nothing more than bothered.

"You're a pretty tough cookie," he teased. "How are you feeling?"

"Like making you lick a lizard's balls, Dickhead," she muttered, hands on knees and feeling like crap. Kurosaki learned bankai in three days? Insane, Ichihime thought. Did he have a fucking litter of leprechauns in his shorts? Ancestors, this is fucking nuts! I feel like I'm going to _die._

She had her fair share of tough training. She regularly sparred with her captain, and Taicho-sama was no walk in the park. He was exacting, with precise skill and excellent swordsmanship. He was fast - one of the fastest in the Gotei 13 - and Ichihime could not easily land strikes against him. Fights between them often went to shikai, where he easily overpowered her unless she got her kido going. She knew that Taicho-sama was forcing her to practice her bakudo - his shikai was impossible to avoid without some kido shielding - and since her bakudo was terrible, it was a good training excercise but it always thrashed her. Still, Ichihime felt like she could hold par with him until that point - her close-combat skills were top-notch, almost Onmitsukido-worthy; and while her shunpo was not nearly as fast as Byakuya's, she had very good dexterity and could easily evade.

This fight, however, had been on a completely different scale. Shiba Isshashine was not interested in sparring with her. He was interested in forcing her to the edge of oblivion, and it was nothing like she had ever encountered before. He wasn't trying to simply defeat her, he was trying to flatten her; to deplete her, to exhaust her and to wear her down until she had nothing left.

And it was working.

As if the barrage of Getsuga Tenshou wasn't enough, apparently Kurosaki Sr could do what Jr could not: kido. Shiba could easily chain _Hado #66: Twin Lotus of Crashing Blue Fire_, and he had no need to get in range of her tanto. In shikai form, it was no better; if she tossed her boomerang, she was without a shield against the hailstorm of kido blasts and zanpakutou waves. Ichihime had tried some verbal-only kido, without the hand motions, and even though that was pushing the boundary of her skill, whatever she did manage to pull off was easily washed out by his overpowering assaults.

"Alright, then!" he laughed, hurling another Getsuga Tenshou at her. "No sense lazing around, then!"

Me and my big mouth, Ichihime muttered to herself. Flashing as fast as she could stomach on shunpo steps, she desperately tried to avoid getting trapped in a defensive stance again.

-:-

_The next morning_

Nanao sighed. She really didn't want to do this, but she had promised.

The library was its typical musty smell. The scent of old books, most of them now unloved and untouched, wafted through the air like an aura of scholarly knowledge just waiting to be absorbed. Over Nanao's tenure as lieutenant of the 8th - a position which had unofficially become responsible for the library - she had read most of the tomes here; save perhaps for the ones that dealt strictly with martial combat, of which Nanao had little interest.

As usual, it was mostly empty that morning, and she could make out the echo of her footsteps on the tiled floor. Nanao still visited the library often - it was like a second home to her - and she traversed down the front corridor of shelves in the direction of the information desk. She had sat in that very desk, most often filling out large stacks of paperwork and balancing the division budget. When she wasn't, she was reading until closing, in which she would have found her captain and then deride him for sleeping on the job instead of getting anything done that day.

Recently, of course, the information desk had transitioned to become Kiyone's responsibility, as she had been Nanao's successor to the 8th division post. Truth be told, Kiyone was not naturally inclined for the position - she was not a particularly scholarly individual - but she was not a terrible fit. All her years of taking care of Jushiro when he had still been sick had crafted her with a slight motherly bent, which was well-suited for taking care of books with a certain healthy dose of attention to detail.

Nanao knew that Kiyone's ambition to become a vice captain had landed her in a position that was surprisingly unfulfilling from a combat perspective. Although the 8th was a combat unit - it was responsible for hollow hunting in the Rukongai - the missions were mostly done by the other seated officers, rather than the lieutenant. It was how Banzo Ichihime, the 8th division 5th seat, had earned her promotion to lieutenant of the 6th. (Nanao was still proud of her decision to nominate her.) While the upper seats served on missions, Kiyone was mostly responsible for logistics. They came easy to her, seeing as how, in her prior position as 13th division 3rd seat, she had been responsible for the logistics of thousands of shinigami. However, given that Nanao's father Kyoraku was close friends with Kiyone's husband Ukitake, Nanao and Kiyone had become family in a loose way; and Nanao was well aware from their conversations that the 8th was not what Kiyone had really expected.

Not that Kiyone was terribly upset about it - she seemed to be okay with serving as librarian instead of hunting hollows. When Nanao's predecessor returned to Soul Society for the first time in over a century, though, Kiyone didn't need to be asked twice. She eagerly handed over the librarian's desk to Yadomaru Lisa, and happily went out patrolling. It had certainly made Nanao's machinations easier - it was far easier for Nanao to predict Kiyone's behavior out in the field than any of the other seated officers in the 8th - but that was a tale that, for the most part, had reached its conclusion. Yes, there was still the issue of Hikaru's registration at the Session for Aristocracy, but that was never going to be something in her hands, anyway. Nanao trusted that Byakuya and Kuukaku would deal with that problem.

On the other hand, Nanao had to deal with _this_ problem. That damn promise she made. Shuu, remind me to put some extra capsicum in your dinner, will you? Sheesh, the promises you make me keep.

_Whatsa matter, afraid?_

Quiet, Saya. I have no need for your sadistic prattle.

_Say hi to Mommy for me,_ Nanao's golden tanto ribbed.

Enough, Nanao threatened. She's not my mother. Not another word.

Saya laughed but held her tongue. _I just want a front row seat for this._

Nanao rolled her eyes and ignored her tanto. Damn pain-in-the-ass. Watch it, or Kazeshini will get pissed that you got yourself locked in a drawer again.

_Alright, alright, I'll behave. But that threat is getting tiresome, Sister. _

As to be expected, the information desk was occupied. It had been far too long since Nanao had seen her, and Yadomaru Lisa looked so different yet so much the same. Nanao had the image of a two-braided woman in a nonstandard shinigami uniform in mind, but instead she wore a sailor fuku that was scandalously small. She had the same bookish face, though, and the same nose buried deep within a book.

I don't even know where this is going to go, Nanao thought. I've avoided this for too long already. "...Yadomaru-san?"

Lisa looked up from her book to see Ise Nanao at the information desk. The only way she could definitively identify her was the blue haori, signalling her out as Head of the Kido Corps, which Lisa knew to be Nanao's position. The only other hint was the glasses. Lisa's last memory of Nanao was her as a child; the youngest shinigami in the division. She hadn't remembered Nanao's features being so angular; although it was foolish to think that her face hadn't changed in over a century. Nanao was a grown woman now. "Hmph. So you finally decided to say hello."

Now I remember how she never use to pull punches, Nanao recalled. "...I've been busy."

Lisa gave a half smile. "I suppose I could say the same."

"So... um... how are things?"

"They suck," Lisa answered, sincerely. "You?"

"...Uh, okay, I guess."

Lisa looked down to her book and then back up again. "You were probably pissed at me for disappearing, weren't you."

"...Kyouraku Taicho told me you were sorry," Nanao said, trying to mitigate the truth a little bit.

"Hmph," Lisa snorted. "You're a terrible liar."

I am not! Nanao thought. On the other hand, she wasn't surprised that Lisa could read her like any other book in this library. Papa always could, too. It was uncanny. Other than him, only Rukia could, on rare occasion, penetrate Nanao's falsifications or omissions. She could bullshit Shuu all day long if she wanted, although she generally didn't see a need to. "...I was angry for a long time. Eventually, I learned what happened. Then I felt bad that I was angry."

"...But you were still angry," Lisa noted wistfully, her tone escaping into the library's musty smell encased in a heavy weight of sadness.

"...I tried not to be," Nanao admitted. "...It didn't come easily."

"I suppose that's fair," Lisa confessed, looking back down at her book in order to not have to meet Nanao's eyes. "You always were a seething type. Hated to patronized, I remember."

Nanao wasn't sure how to respond to that. After a pause, she redirected the conversation. "Are you planning on staying?"

"...I don't know."

Nanao nodded slowly, trying to gain a sense of what Yadomaru was thinking.

"So you're the Head of Kido Corps now?" Lisa asked, trying to keep the gloomy conversation afloat.

"...Yes," Nanao answered. "I've been in the position since shortly after the Winter War."

Lisa hesitated. "I didn't see you back then," she commented. "I didn't realize at the time that you had been a lieutenant, since I thought they had brought all of them to the battle."

The offensive memory struck a sore point with Nanao, but it was a fair comment at the moment. Yadomaru didn't seem to intend harm, so Nanao let it go. "...I was the only lieutenant ordered to stay in Soul Society."

Lisa nodded, as though she was trying to avoid embarrassing Nanao. "I guess they needed someone to run the show here while the rest of us were fighting Aizen."

Nanao held her tongue. The whole discussion was an agitating topic. "I fight frequently now that I'm in the Kido Corps," she explained, not wanting Yadomaru to think she was a pansy. "Mostly in conjunction with the Covert Ops."

Lisa's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You like field work?"

"...I enjoy the thrill of the hunt, yes."

"Ah, quoting Artemis. You're obviously well read."

"I took after you," Nanao said, not realizing what she had admitted before it escaped her mouth.

Lisa smiled softly and closed her book. She hesitated for a long time, until she took off her glasses to clean them in between wiping her eyes. "I made for a pretty shitty mother, didn't I?"

Tears began to trickle down the nosepads on Nanao's glasses, and the words that escaped were broken and shivering. "No, just... just an absent one."

Lisa choked back a sob with a sad, forlorn smile as she replaced her glasses. "Is that any better, Nanao-chan?"

Something about hearing Yadomaru call her in the familiar opened up Nanao's heart. "...Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?" she laughed weakly amidst her tears.

Lisa stifled an equally sad, choked laugh. "We've both been putting this off, haven't we?"

Nanao sighed in resignation. She couldn't hide it. "...Yeah."

The tension in the room was palpable, but it was not grave. Everything had simply been bottled up for too long. It was not easy - there were too many conflicting emotions; too many intense feelings of loneliness and loss and love and fear.

"So Kyouraku Taicho has a new woman," Lisa said. It was an attempt at being indifferent, but Nanao knew better.

"...Rantao Fukutaicho. She's... very different than what you might come to have expect from him."

"She hangs out a lot in here."

"...I suppose she's got many of the same bookish qualities that Papa - I mean, Kyouraku Taicho - has always liked."

Lisa breathed deeply. "...Since when did you start calling him Papa?"

Nanao swallowed hard. "...A while ago."

Lisa lowered her head down to look at her book. Nanao thought she looked like a broken woman; like someone who had everything taken from her. "He's changed, hasn't he?" Lisa asked, begging confirmation.

"He has," Nanao admitted with a sigh. "For the better, I think."

Lisa looked askance. "It's to be expected. I've changed, too." The vaizard thought about her new family, and how it was so much smaller than before. She was the fifth wheel now. It was her, Kensei, Mashiro, Shinji and Hiyori. Love and Hachi were gone. Rose was gone. Rose... That fop Rose was gone.

Lisa sighed again, her heart feeling sadness for that which really couldn't be expressed in words. "...Are you married? Do you have a family?"

Nanao hesitated. "I'm not married, although I'm in a stable long-term relationship with someone, and we've lived together for eight years."

"In other words, you're married," Lisa snorted.

Nanao wanted to snap back that she didn't believe in marriage and that it wasn't the same, but she held her tongue. Now was not the time nor place to get into her feminist ideals. And somehow, she didn't think her excuses would hold water to Yadomaru. There was something about her that Nanao couldn't dance around; something about her previous mentor that cut through everything that wasn't essential. "...I have no children, but I guess you could say I have a family. Kyouraku Taicho; Ukitake Taicho and his wife. Kuchiki Rukia."

Lisa was surprised to hear a Kuchiki in that list of names. She didn't know very much about Rukia other than the fact that she was Ichigo's husband - which made her all kinds of strange in Lisa's book - but a Kuchiki being close to someone from common stock was unheard of. Lisa opted not to comment on it, though. "Not me, though."

Nanao bit her lip. She didn't know what to say.

Lisa sighed. "That's alright, Nanao-san, it's-"

"-chan," Nanao corrected.

"Huh?"

"...Please," Nanao asked quietly. "Please... Call me Nanao-chan. I... I think you... I think that would be..." Nanao paused to take a deep breath and refocus. "...It feels wrong to hear you call me Nanao-san."

Lisa smiled, the tiniest bit of relief entering into her shoulders. "Alright, Nanao-chan."

Nanao's lips curled up into a soft, weak smile, but she said nothing.

The older shinigami let out the breath she didn't know she was holdng. "I'm sorry, Nanao-chan."

"...Me too," Nanao said, unable to keep the tears from clouding her vision.

Lisa stood up from the information desk and came around to Nanao. A knowing gaze passed between them, and the taller one wrapped her arms around the other, and Nanao followed suit. They stood like that for a long time, in tears - but also in solace.

Nanao was confused about so many things, but at least one thing seemed clear. She had been in denial for a long time.

It was a natural response. Denial was logical. It was logical to believe that Yadomaru Lisa, in whose arms she felt at home, was not her mother.

But there were certain things that, when forced to confront, were hard to escape.

Nanao thought of Hikaru. She was temporarily amused by the fact that she could actually think of her as a niece, but it was a temporary distraction from heavier thoughts. Hikaru had a female biological progenitor, who against her will had been ceased to be able to fulfill that role due to death. But no matter what some lesser-intellect beings might believe, Hikaru had only one mother - Kuchiki Rukia.

And although Nanao might have denied it, she, too, had only one mother.

Lisa was the first to speak. "...You were one of the only people I missed here."

"Yadomaru-san," Nanao managed to eke out while being entrenched in the sailor fuku of her predecessor. "Maybe... maybe you could stay."

Lisa froze for a moment, and then slowly pulled away to put space between them. She wanted to be able to look Nanao right in the eyes and see the truth. "...Do you mean that?"

Nanao hesitated. "Maybe... maybe, at the very least, for a little bit. I - I... It's been a long time. It would be nice to... to maybe catch up a little bit, at least before you decide if you want to go."

Lisa let a weak laugh escape. "...That would be nice," she agreed.

Nanao sniffled and smiled. "That's good, then," she said weakly but optimistically, feeling like the worst of the awkwardness had been dealt with. If she had to cope with any more of the heavy subject material, though, she wasn't sure she would be able to take it. Nanao was feeling surprisingly fragile today.

_Like a little girl who wants her mother,_ Saya interjected.

Nanao resisted the urge to violently hurl her zanpakutou across the room. Instead, she surprised herself and did the mature thing: she accepted that Saya was right.

-:-

Yoruichi began. "Last night, someone launched an attack against the Families of Shihoin. A group infiltrated my House and mercilessly raped Tokine-san, and then tried to kill her and her caretaker. After that, the assailants went to the Banzo estate, where they attacked my niece, 6th division lieutenant Banzo Ichihime. Tokine-san, who survived the massacre apparently by virtue of the fact that she is nearly immortal, followed them and assisted Banzo Fukutaicho in terminating the attackers. When I spoke with Banzo Fukutaicho - who met me in the World of the Living - she indicated that the man self-identified himself as Nakatsu. We have no record of such an individual, so Kisuke gathered the remains of the ringleader and sent them to forensics under Rantao Fukutaicho's oversight.

"DNA indicates that they belonged to Qwangfon, a disgraced member of the Fon family. He is a fairly old shinigami; he was 4th seat of the 2nd division before I became captain the first time around. His file indicates that he was well known as a misogynist, and did not get along with female colleagues. When I assumed my post, he opted to leave rather than serve under me; and this led to a dishonorable discharge from the Gotei 13 and his ejection from the Fon family. He became a mercenary shortly thereafter, and like many ex-Onmitsukido, he was hired by the Kasumi-Ouji family.

"He was fired from his post after he refused to listen to the orders of Lady Kasumi-Ouji. According to reports available in the Session for Aristocracy archives, they complained that he was overzealous and would carry out his own agenda as head of security, and that other noble families should refuse to hire his services. He then started a gang out in Buyushima. We don't know much about that time period, but most of his gang in Buyushima was eventually slaughtered by a rival gang. According to local legend, Qwangfon violently killed off each member of the rival gang one-by-one in a series of brutally violent assassinations. The local yakuza found him guilty of disturbing the peace and banished him. Rather than kill the yakuza off, he took to the Outer Lands and made a home for himself there. Anyone who wanted to know where to find him could get the answers, and rumor has it that he became a paid hit man for a while until about ten years ago, when he abandoned his hermit life and disappeared."

Byakuya's hand found its way to his chin as he sat in pensive thought. "I can think of only one connection between the two targets," Byakuya reasoned. "Political assassination. It is public knowledge that each of them will be involved in upcoming legislation in the Session this week. This Qwangfon certainly sounds like he would be the man to hire."

Kuukaku interjected. "There's something else - Hinamori-kun stumbled into the 4th division like a zombie who took a headshot from a shotgun. It took nearly seven hours of reconstructive surgery to put her brain back in place. It's a miracle she survived at all."

Yoruichi was alarmed. "She walked in with brain damage? Did she say what happened?"

"According to Unohana Taicho, she was babbling incoherently," Kuukaku sighed, obviously distressed. "She just keeps groaning 'kyoo' noises in a semiconscious state. Unohana-san is amazed that she's not a complete vegetable. We don't know exactly what happened, but she was heavily drugged with near-lethal doses of potent reishi stabilizers. From Unohana's best guess, it appears that someone took a crude corkscrew to her left eye," she shuddered, the very mention of it making her cringe. "It's horrible, but according to Unohana, by some miracle, Hinamori is actually likely to recover."

Yamamoto had been listening carefully, and finally chose this moment to speak. "Is there a connection between these two incidents?"

"At first glance, I doubt it," Byakuya thought out loud. "Banzo Fukutaicho and Hinamori Fukutaicho are not particularly friendly. Nor has Hinamori-san ever met Shihoin Toyuki-dono."

"I agree with Byakuya-san," Kuukaku answered, catching a glare from her husband. He didn't like being referred to by his personal name at work. She didn't care. "Although Hinamori-kun has been acting very strange lately."

"Agreed," Hitamake said, speaking up from next to the Soutaicho. "But my understanding is that she had a falling out with her longtime boyfriend, Kira Izuru. It is possible that this was exacerbated by his recent hospitalization. In any case, I know Hinamori-san fairly well, and I agree with Kuchiki Taicho's analysis. I don't think they are connected."

"But there's no proof," Yoruichi insisted. "Was Hinamori on a mission?"

Kuukaku looked both very irritated and equally humiliated. "No. She had gone AWOL. No one knew where she was."

"Has she ever done that before?" Byakuya asked.

"...No," Kuukaku admitted. "But she's always been emotional. It's probably one of the reasons we've gotten along so well."

"Unacceptable!" Yamamoto chastised her. "You cannot allow your lieutenant to vanish, Shiba Taicho!"

"The fault is mine," Kuukaku accepted. "But I will deal with her. In the meanwhile, we need to worry about bigger problems than my vice captain's delinquency."

"I don't know," Yoruichi commented. "The whole thing sounds highly suspicious to me. I'm not willing to believe that the two events are unconnected."

"Hopefully, we can find out more information when Hinamori-kun wakes up," Kuukaku noted. "In the meanwhile, we need precautions and we need to take the threat of political assassination seriously."

"Now more than ever, we need to press forward, and we need to succeed in the Session for Aristocracy," Yoruichi pressed. "Whatever our hidden NATA agent is doing inside Central 46, I have a feeling it's big. We need to get inside, and we have to do everything we can to guarantee success. I have a proposal, and that's why I've asked Kuchiki Taicho and Shiba Taicho to join us in this meeting. Assuming what Shiba Taicho tells me is true, we have a new option."

"Got word this morning," Kuukaku confirmed. She then smirked at Byakuya, her serpentine smile much too playful for present company. "Impressive, I have to admit. Jealous, Byakuya-san?"

Byakuya refused to answer her jab. It was none of his business.

"What is your proposal, Shihoin Taicho?" the Soutaicho asked skeptically, annoyed.

Yoruichi breathed deeply before she proceeded. He wasn't going to like this idea.

Yamamoto sat in total silence as his Head of Onmitsukido outlined her idea. "This is a most unusual request," he finally answered.

"But a necessary one," Yoruichi pressed. "Unless you see alternatives."

"I find that hard to believe," Yamamoto chastised. "Is it truly significant enough to beg me for such disruption?"

"True, it's only 'one' on paper," Kuukaku interjected. "But the reality is very different. The influence is significant. Others will see things differently; take the proposal seriously. That is not something we should so easily dismiss."

"And it would provide a platform of independence to prevent the perception of outside pressure on decision-making," Byakuya added. "We all know how ineffectual the current arrangement is. We cannot hope to succeed if others think we are playing with a chessboard full of pawns."

The Soutaicho sighed. He hated politics. "We are engaging ourselves in a guerrilla warfare against an established system that has served us for thousands of years, and now you are asking me to participate in petty subterfuge! I want no part of it!"

"But you are already," Kuukaku shrugged. Byakuya was annoyed at her flippancy in front of the Captain-Commander, but he didn't intervene. "You've got the most significant vote in the Middle Court, and it sways opinion. You know that you will be there. You're already involved."

"The Session for Artistocracy should not influence Gotei 13 matters!" Yamamoto roared.

"This is not the time to argue," Yoruichi pressed. "We have several divisions in the Gotei 13 that have not yet recovered. Don't you think that this would be beneficial to the Gotei 13 as well? Surely we can allow our interests to coincide!"

Yamamoto paused. That was, at the very least, a convincing argument. "Do we have evidence that this is more than just hypothetical posturing?"

"I will investigate," Byakuya offered. "Although I am inclined to believe it is not necessary. He is an idiot, but not a liar."

Kuukaku laughed. "That's true."

The Soutaicho sighed. "Fine. Hitamake Fukutaicho, make the arrangements immediately. We do not have time to waste."

"_Hai,_ Soutaicho-dono."

-:-

"Father... this is an opportunity we should not dismiss."

Ryogi Hanbo sighed. "Shiki-san, you are extending yourself. Noble politics are a game of cloak and dagger. You should trust no one. There is a greater likelihood that Banzo-no-kimi wishes exploit you. You have no assurances and are in a very vulnerable position."

Shiki looked down into her lap, frustrated but refusing to show it. "I am not a child. I am aware of the pitfalls involved. It is a risk. One that I am prepared to take."

Hanbo was torn. His daughter had suffered enough. "This dossier is a weapon," he muttered, referring to the manilla envelope that had been delivered by no less that Hoshimura Makina-majordomo, and it was evidence of his own vulnerability. It was obvious that the shrewd Head of House was prepared to play hardball. The muckraking in that file was so extensive it made him cringe. Owning a copy was itself a liability - there would be many who would kill him without hesitation to burn the contents inside.

"According to Hoshimura-majordomo, we are one of a select few with advance copy of this proposed bill. Shouldn't that be a sign of trust?"

"Hardly," Hanbo shook his head. "It is just as easily a decoy, used as bait to test our loyalty. One we disseminate to allies in an attempt to surreptitiously build a coup against her, only to discover it is a falsehood designed to misdirect us. Or we could be played upon for fools, and the same document has been sent to every attendant in the Session. You are making invalid assumptions. No matter your impression of Banzo-no-kimi, she cannot be trusted."

"So are you calling her a liar?" Shiki asked incredulously.

"Absolutely not," he answered, equally dismissive. "I am merely saying that I have no means of verifying her sincerity. You cannot assume she means to do you well. You could be nothing more than a pawn. In fact, I doubt she has any intention of making good on her promise. She gave you no means of leverage to insure that she would carry out her end of the bargain - and even if Banzo-no-kimi did, that does not mean you could trust Kuchiki-sama to follow Banzo-no-kimi's suggestion. Kuchiki-sama may very well have her own motivations, and may see no reason to fall influence. There is no evidence that Kuchiki-sama would do what Banzo-no-kimi asks of her. Ultimately, you are left with only but a handful of unverifiable promises that are easily broken."

Shiki was still, but her disappointment and aggravation were evident. The meeting with Banzo-no-kimi had been playing through her mind over and over again:_ Now I know you have the character, so it is merely in your hands to decide. The final test of leadership awaits - do you wish to swim among the school of like-minded fish, or do you have what it takes to be swifter, wiser, sharper? You tell me, Ryogi Shiki - do I sound like I am a cat asking tit-for-tat with a cornered mouse, or I am treating you like the promising shinigami that I know you are?_

"Shiki-san," Hanbo continued, "this legislation, if it is truly what is being proposed, is an explosive document. It undoes millenia of jurisprudence - it forces open our military government, which operates on strict independence from outside influences, and makes it potentially cater to the whims of the oligarchy. It could have unintended consequences. I am hesitant to believe that it will truly reduce corruption - it could be nothing more than a means to consolidate the military command under nobility. That outcome, I am sure you recognize, would be catastrophic."

Shiki thought of her meeting with Banzo-no-kimi again. _Yes, but he is so... quaint._ "But perhaps it is worthwhile. And even if it is not, it may be a risk worth taking. Father, crisis and opportunity come hand in hand. I believe we should not dismiss it simply because we are afraid of change."

He hesitated. "I agree that wisdom would suggest we avoid dismissing it outright, but wisdom also demands that we trust in that which has been tested by time."

"And Aizen's rebellion has shown us the evidence to prove our current system is in dire need of improvement," Shiki replied, her debating skills swift and polished.

"That may be so, but-"

They were interrupted by the head of servant staff. "Hanbo-sama, Shiki-sama - forgive me for interrupting. Kuzaku Mikoto-dono is here, asking to meet with you."

Hanbo scowled. This was bad. When an Upper Court Noble wanted to curry your favor, they invited you to their estate. It was to show you their wealth and their power, to demonstrate that it was to your advantage to see what they could offer you. Any time they came to you, it was a terrible omen - and even worse when they arrived unannounced.

"Send him in," Shiki ordered, a bold and even brazen overture in front of her father's silence.

"Shiki!" he gasped.

She stared him down. "I will show you, Father, that I do not intend to lay down and be trampled upon. I do not fear Kuzaka-sama - do you?"

Hanbo was shocked with his daughter's audacity to challenge him. "He is a very powerful man, Shiki - his word could divert our water supply, and all of the farmers who depend on our land will suddenly find their rice paddies dried up. Who will pay us tribute on land that they cannot cultivate?"

"And is that what we fear? The loss of our money? Last I knew, our finances were in order. We could construct our own private water channels if needed."

"And that loss of money would lessen our influence and standing, and subject us to bribes and other underhanded tactics if others imagined us vulnerable to fiscal rewards. I have no desire to let us sink to that petty scheming, Shiki-san. Money is power and peace of mind that I am not willing to forsake. It is not a means unto an end, but a vehicle with which I can pursue more important matters unmolested."

Shiki folded her arms. "I remain unconvinced."

Hanbo was exasperated at his daughter's sudden recalcitrance. She was usually of like mind with him. "Would you not rather prefer that money be an set aside as an attractive dowry for a potential suitor?" She was about to yell at him in protest, but he cut her off. "I do not wish to throw it in your face, Shiki-san, but I accept the reality that your position is tenuous, and as a father I must do what I can for my daughter. I am not below bribing anyone with even mediocre interest to consider your hand in marriage - you are my only future and I will not gamble with anything less than the best hand. My assets are my influence to provide you that which you will not be able to achieve yourself, whether I like that or not. I cannot rewrite history, and so I must work around it - and that is unavoidable."

Shiki was pissed as hell, and it showed on her face. Her mental illness was a constant hammer to the throat, an unrepentant devil that sat on her shoulder and taunted her with failure as it blew wind chimes in her ear as a substitute for an evil laugh. She knew her father meant well, and that his position was legitimate, but the whole situation aggravated her to extremes. "Then let us hear what Kuzaku has to say. Keeping him waiting will not bode well for us, either," she noted through grit teeth.

Hanbo held his tongue. In that respect, his daughter was correct. He breathed deeply. Moving the dossier into a drawer inside the desk, he prayed to his ancestors that he would somehow live through the week without burning himself down to the ground. "Do as she says," he instructed the servant.

Moments later, Kuzaku walked in, his robe made from silk and lead crystal thread. It was no question that he had intended on shoving his wealth and power in their faces. Shiki and her father bowed deeply, holding their pose to show the requisite amount of respect.

"To what do I owe the undeserved honor of hosting the estemeed Kuzaku-sama in our humble estate?" Hanbo asked.

"I came for a quick visit in advance of this week's Session," Mikoto indicated. "To discuss an arrangement in which you may benefit in your daughter's hand in marriage."

Hanbo swallowed deeply. This was about to get very, very bad. "It is my most humble and limited understanding that the great and worthy noble sons of the most honorable Kuzaku-sama were already married."

"That can be rectified," Mikoto said flatly.

Shiki remained still at the horror that she had just heard, tensing only her fists hidden in the billowing sleeves of her yukata. Hanbo was equally stunned, until he somehow found words. "You must forgive my egregious lack of intelligence, for I am incapable of perceiving how my daughter would be benefit from the induction into a family that... finds such expedient means in which to return their sons to bachelorhood."

"Wealth, power, and a promise of security," Mikoto shrugged, seemingly unable to care about the unstated accusations. "All of these would sound appealing to someone of your stature, I'm sure. Food and lodging for the rest of her life. Appropriate medical care for your daughter's insanity."

Shiki restrained herself from whipping out her combat knife and slicing him right through the neck. Still, she demurely placed her hands behind her back, to hide the fact that she was reaching for her zanpakutou in her obi knot. Her eyes of death flickered, and Shiki could see that, to her great disappointment, if she did nothing, Kuzaku Mikoto was currently fated to live another two thousand plus years.

Hanbo was restrained. He was unclear as to whether it was in his best interest to comment on that remark. In the end, he did not know if he made the right decision. "If I may humbly speak my most insignificant thoughts in front of Your Exalted Grace, I am surprised to hear of this news of my daughter's 'insanity', as she has never before been diagnosed with such a condition."

Kuzaku's face tightened and his voice deepened at the lack of complete and total submission before him. "Well then you have confirmed that you understand my offer of great kindness," he threatened, "as it is clear the doctors she is currently seeing are not adequately equipped to provide you with the proper information."

Shiki burned with rage but held still. Hanbo was also still. "Your Grace will have to forgive me for being too indecisive to provide you with an answer at this juncture," he said measuredly, but allowing his voice to be clearly confrontational.

"No need to decide now," Mikoro shrugged. "You are welcome to answer my proposal at the Session for Aristocracy," he said pointedly.

"I am sure we will be able to decide by then," Hanbo returned.

"And lest you think you should be quick to dismiss my carrot, Ryogi Hanbo the 15th," Mikoto added, "then I will be unequivocal about the stick."

With that, Kuzaku left.

Shiki swore to herself. In the end, she had done nothing but lie down and let herself be trampled.

-:-

Ichihime staggered through the main senkaimon. She was battered and beaten, haggard and awfully tired. Her uniform was in complete tatters, and it would have to be replaced. Her reiatsu was nearly completely drained, and she knew she should eat - but she was too tired. She felt like she could sleep for a week. Despite her weariness, she felt good. It was hard not to. She had gone looking for a fight, and she had certainly found it.

With a pace that was too slow to be leisurely but not enough to be a lame stagger, she took one step at a time through the Sereitei streets, generally trying to avoid attention. It was basically impossible. No one ignored a Head of House, regardless of how smashed up they looked. And it was hard for her to blend into the crowd - it was never easy to mistake Banzo Ichihime for anyone else. Even if you didn't see her face, her silky platinum blond hair in a tight French braid was a dead giveaway.

Her mind wandered. She was frazzled, to be sure, and it was unsurprising that she was a touch scatterbrained as she slugged homewards, bone-tired. A memorable exchange with Adame was playing through her head, both fond and puzzling at the same time:

_"Of all blades, why a tanto? Is it not customary for nobles to wield longer weapons, such as a katana or even a nodachi?"_

_"Oh, that one is easy. So easy I did not even think to mention it."_

_"Is that so? Pray tell, what is that?"_

_"It speaks of a desire to be close, to engage with another. To see for yourself, to know; to be known. You are not content to remain distant from those you meet. Your true desire, Banzo Ichihime-sama, is to feel another's soul, to love or be loved, to touch one's heart and show them your own."_

She had been totally swept up in his charms at that moment - she still was, admittedly. Now, however, her rotating mind was circling around one particular question that had stayed with her. It had cropped up from time to time, whenever Ichihime thought about it. Now it was such a familiar thought that it seemed like a natural extension of her stream of consciousness.

_If that's the case, then why is my shikai a boomerang - something you throw at someone from far away?_

Ichihime didn't have time to contemplate the question or its answer further, as a sudden blast of reiatsu off to the west caught everyone - including Ichihime - by surprise. It threw her into high alert at first - but after she finally recognized it, she relaxed and smiled. Good news, she thought. I don't have the energy for another fight, anyway.

She wondered if Ise-senpai was surprised - although Ichihime was sure she would be pleased.

Feeling an odd comradery with a lieutenant she respected but was socially removed from her, she marched on home. The Gotei 13 was changing. Sereitei would be changing, soon, too. Everything was changing. Even the concept of change was changing.

_"And you've changed,"_ Shiji said, without snark for once.

A thin smile played upon her lips as she made her way home. No, she replied smugly. Truth is absolute, and I cannot contradict it, Shiji.

Shiji shrugged beside her, flapping at a pace that indicated he was just as worn out as she was. _"You're getting philosophical on me, aren't you?"_

No, she answered, her smug smile widening. It's simply that in truth, I haven't changed at all.

-:-

Komamura Saijin lumbered into the Captain-Commander's office in his steady, iron gait; but he stopped abruptly to find that he was in the company of much more than just the 1st division captain.

Also present was Kuchiki Byakuya, Shiba Kuukaku, the recently reinstated captain of the 2nd, Shihoin Yoruichi. There was another individual present, and he appeared to be the new vice captain of the 1st; although Saijin didn't know his name. All of them were looking at the new arrival as though he was late to the party.

After taking a moment to collect his mild surprise, he spoke directly to Yamamoto, who was seated at his small table. "You have summoned me, Soutaicho-dono?"

"Yes," he said. "Congratulations."

Saijin brow twisted in a confused direction. "...Thank you," he answered, "although if I may ask - for what?"

Kuukaku and Yoruichi had identical cunning smiles, but it was the Soutaicho who answered. "Congratulations on your promotion."

"My... what?"

* * *

_Reviews, please! C'mon, folks, no skimping - I've been missing out on hearing your responses lately. Give me some nice, meaty comments; something I can sink my teeth into, c'mon! ;D  
Next chapter: The prelude to the Session for Aristrocracy._

* * *

As per readers' requests, I will repeat the known zanpakutou classifications below, with examples. Zanpakutou can be classified as one or more of the following loose definitions:

**Alpha:** Combat-oriented [Omaeda's Gegetsuburi, Iba's zanpakutou, Ikkaku's Houzukimaru, Hisagi's Kazeshini]

**Beta:** Kido-oriented [Momo's Tobiume, Urahara's Benihime]

**Gamma:** Benefits wielder in some way [Ichigo's Tensa Zangetsu, which increases his speed]

**Delta:** Anything not strictly classified as Alpha/Beta/Gamma [Kira's Wabisuke, Kyouraku's Katen Kyoukotsu]

**Epsilon:** A class of zanpakutou that were resurrected by Shihoin Tokine (aka Naga Toyuki) while imprisoned under NATA control [Agent Anderson's Glamdring]

**Zeta:** Zanpakutou that have achieved zotokai [In this story, Rukia's Sode no Shirayuki]

**Eta:** Zanpakutou that have achieved shikai [Matsumoto's Heineko]

**Theta:** Zanpakutou that have achieved bankai [Renji's Zabimaru]

**Omicron:** Zanpakutou that have been wielded by Spirit Kings [In this story, Kuchiki Ginrei's zanpakutou]

**Sigma:** Special zanpakutou of guardian spirits that were used to create the universe [Yamamoto's Ryuujin Jakka, Hitsugaya's Hyorinmaru, and in this story, Shihoin Tokine's Genesis]

**Chi:** A dead zanpakutou that is reinfused with a new shingami's soul and becomes a vaizard-like zanpakutou, resurrecting its previous identity and excercising destructive hollow-like influences on the wielder [In this story, Ho Shin Yang's Ragnarok]

**Omega:** A zanpakutou with abilities that are remarkably dangerous, manipulative, or abusable; and require special disposal procedures when their wielder dies [Aizen's Kyouka Suigetsu, and in this story, Nanao's Saya and Rantao Kiku's Occulus Omnispectivus]


	41. Calm Before the Storm

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note:** For those of you that don't remember what a CPTR is, it's from Ch44 of "Saved For You, Kuchiki." It stands for Confidential Psychological Trauma Report. Also, this chapter makes numerous references to Act II of that story - and I will remind readers that in canon's Turn Back the Pendulum arc, the 10th division is the one we know the least about. (Not that it matters so much for this story.)_

_**Translator's note:** The word 'Baka' means 'idiot', 'fool' or 'moron', and is the most common insult in Japanese. Not surprisingly, the word 'bakabaka' means a 'really big moron'. More interestingly, the Japanese word 'bakemono' (a derivative) is the Japanese word for 'monster', e.g. "Bakemono da! Hayaku ike!" (loosly translated as "It's a monster! Run for your lives!"). It can also be used as an adjective/adverb with a more expletive meaning, e.g. "kono baka-neko", "that goddamn cat". Also, a reminder that in Japanese, the polite way to answer a telephone is to use the untranslatable phrase "Moshimoshi"._

* * *

_"I am in no position to judge anyone but myself."_  
_~7th division lieutenant Komamura Kitsune, in the far-off future_

* * *

_"Wait - you can see this?" Tamani asked, pointing to the badge hanging from her belt._

_"...Yes, I can," he answered haltingly._

_"I haven't met anyone who can see it before. I inherited it from my grandmother, who said it belonged to her great grandmother. She told me to safeguard it and carry it with me all the time - for protection."_

_Sora's throat tightened. "You don't know what it is, do you?"_

_"...No, not really. I only know that... that supposedly ghosts can see it."_

_"There's truth to that," he began. "It is an artifact that a great many would die to defend against a powerful few who would die to destroy it." Sora watched the young beauty's eyes widen in shock as he pulled an identical badge out of his back pocket. "Let me tell you everything."_

_~Tabaki Tamani (great-great-great-granddaughter of Arisawa Tatsuki) talking to a Quincy, Ishida Sora (great-great-great-grandson of Ishida Uryu and Inoue Orihime), upon meeting for the first time by chance_

* * *

_"Life has its ups and downs. It is up to us to determine which part of the cycle we keep with us."_  
_~Ukitake Jushiro_

* * *

Rukia seized his face with two smooth hands and didn't let him go. At least not for a good long while.

"Wukya," he mumbled through mashed lips, "m gunna ee lay."

"Ssh," she instructed, planting her lips on his mouth again. "Kiss me, Idiot."

Ichigo gave in and they tumbled back into bed for a quickie. It was all the time they had for, considering that Hikaru needed close attention. She couldn't cry, so Unohana's recommendations were to check on her compulsively. But it didn't matter. Quickies were fun again now.

After a short but satisfying trip to marital bliss and back, Ichigo gave her one last kiss and hopped out of bed to check on her in the bassinet on the other side of his studio apartment. Sure enough, her face was scrunched up, and Ichigo quickly verified that she needed a diaper change.

"I'm going to have her for weeks, Ichigo," Rukia taunted, sheet barely covering her chest.

Ichigo saved a mental snapshot of her little grin before retorting. "Give me a break," he laughed, reaching for the diaper bag anyway. "You're going to have the servant staff do it most of the time. You're going to be tied up in that Hoopla for Arsewipes the rest of the week."

She threw a pillow at him.

"Missed!"

The next one hit him square in the head.

Rukia got out of bed, gave Ichigo a chance to leer - oh, she really loved seeing him look at her like that again - and then gave him a good sexy smack on his naked ass while he finished powdering down the baby and closing up the diaper. He was really great with her, she thought. He's so into this, it makes me so happy.

"And now," he said, handing her Hikaru, "I really have to get dressed and go. Because I am really, really going to be late to work."

Rukia took Hikaru from him and cradled her softly, feeling blissfully content and very happy. She was sad that she had to take Hikaru back home to Soul Society, but Rukia needed to be at the Session for Aristocracy. It was a requirement from Yamamoto Soutaicho that all noble members of the Gotei 13 be there to vote this time, regardless of their decisions. Technically, Ichigo should have been there, too; but he and Karin had received a special waver so that they only had to be there for the legislative session.

Ichigo was putting on his pants when Rukia started giggling. "What?"

"It tickles," she answered.

"What tickles?"

"Look," she said, pointing to her breast. Ichigo could see that Hikaru had latched on and was suckling peacefully, seemingly drifting off to sleep.

Ichigo's face contorted into a twisted puzzle. "...Isn't that weird?"

"Why?"

"Well, I mean... it's not like your nursing."

"Supposedly, if she does it enough, I'll start lactating."

Ichigo finished doing his shirt buttons. "Are you really considering that?"

"No," Rukia said casually. "But even if I'm not nursing, there's something very peaceful about it."

Ichigo smiled and shook his head in an 'okay, whatever' gesture. "Look at you - Shinigami Mom."

She smiled, brushing the hair out of her eyes so that she could better admire Hikaru. She was now sleeping, attached to Rukia, and looked like she was in the happiest place in the world. "Ichigo, take a picture."

Ichigo chuckled to himself. Rukia was the last person in the world who wanted a picture taken of her naked, but Ichigo could understand that this was different. Grabbing his digital camera off the shelf, he snapped some tasteful pictures of motherhood that he might never see again, and then got his shoes and bag together.

"I love you, Midget," he said, giving her a last kiss. "Hopefully, I'll see you soon."

"I'll call you to let you know we made it home safely," she said.

"Thanks." Ichigo gave Hikaru a tiny kiss on her cheek, and then also kissed Rukia's breast while he was at it. She playfully smacked him in the ear and he pecked her again (on her mouth this time), and then Ichigo darted out the door. It was his first day back at residency, and he was going to be late, but Rukia didn't really care so much.

She stayed sitting on the bed, entirely devoid of clothing, savoring her daughter's gentle sucking. It was like heaven had descended on her. This had been everything she ever wanted, and it had been better than everything she dreamed of. Too soon, she would have to detach Hikaru, get dressed and return to Soul Society; where she would have to hand the baby over to the servant staff for three days while she was at the Session for Aristocracy. Right now, however, she was basking in every glorious second; every moment of an improbable wish come true.

-:-

Ichihime trudged into the foyer of her manor, not appreciating that Makina was waiting for her with what appeared to be an urgent message. "Yo, Makina-chan," she muttered.

Makina gave a small bow. "Your captain is waiting for you in the sitting room, Ichihime-sama."

"What? Taicho-sama is here?"

"Yes, Ichihime-sama."

Craptastical. "You have to be kidding me."

Makina shrugged apologetically.

Ichihime was exhausted. The past twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind: she had gotten engaged, attended a wedding, had and made up a fight, met a six-hundred-plus year old Shihoin, gotten nearly killed and then saved by said Shihoin, and then dashed off to the World of the Living to pick a fight with her previous fiance when she should have been sleeping like a sane person. And now, all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and go to sleep before tomorrow's opening day of the Session for Aristocracy. Instead, her taicho was waiting for her. She couldn't even play the nobility card (which she rarely ever did) and send him away; he was a Head of House, too.

Disrespect if I keep him waiting, disrespect if I show up in front of him looking and smelling like I rolled around in a manure pit. Just great. "Sorry, but tell him he's going to have to wait until I take a shower." Sheesh, and here I was hoping I could get a nap.

-:-

Nanao entered into her office in the Kido Corps administrative building with an unexpected visitor sitting on her desk. Now, in most cases, anyone who dared to sit on Nanao's desk better have a damn good reason or otherwise they were going to suffer some serious roasting. In this case, it was just mild annoyance.

"Hey."

"Shuu - what are you doing here?"

"What, not happy to see me?"

Nanao frowned. "Annoyed, perhaps."

Hisagi laughed. "Oh, c'mon, admit it. You're glad you finally talked to Yadomaru-san."

She sighed and sat down next to him, the tone in her voice contrarian - but he knew it was just a facade since she affectionately put her head on his shoulder. "She made fun of me."

"Oh _really_, now? Over what?"

"When I said I wasn't married but had been living with you for eight years"

Much to Nanao's chagrin, Shuuhei burst into laughter. "You could fix that, you know."

"Never, chauvenist pig slime," she teased lovingly.

"Yeah, heaven forbid. You know, 'cause then I might suddenly start calling you my beer-bringing wench."

Nanao snuggled up against him, playing along. "I know your type and your secret little fantasies."

He chuckled. "How did it go?"

"Damn you and your promises," she muttered. "I hate crying."

"Sounds like it took a lot out of you."

Nanao sighed and put her hand on his knee. "...You and I started seeing each other after Rukia-san's wedding, which was incidentally around the same time that Kyouraku Taicho became Papa to me," she explained. "You never really saw how hard that phase of my life had been. I... I had a hard time adjusting to the idea."

Shuuhei put his arm around her, but hesitated before he spoke. Nanao didn't talk about her feelings. This was careful ground and he needed to be sensitive. "Why?"

Nanao didn't want to go there. It smacked so much of incest that it was too painful to describe. "...I don't want to talk about it, Shuu."

"...Sorry."

"No, it's fine. It's just that... Yadomaru-san was my vice captain. She was my first rolemodel. I've been a shinigami my entire life in Soul Society. I was raised to have no one; to feel nothing; to not care. We are soldiers first and people second. We live and we die by martial order, and if we die, no one should cry because sometimes, it's our job to die in the line of duty.

"I saw so many die, Shuu. So many. And it never bothered me. I just accepted it; that's how life is in the Gotei 13. You live, you serve, you die, and you hope you had something meaningful to remember in between. But the one person who may have been family to me, Yadomaru Fukutaicho, suddenly vanished without a trace. I felt so betrayed, Shuu. And I know it wasn't her fault, and that I should have accepted that soldiers die and disappear - but I felt so miserable. And after a hundred years, she reappears - and for ten years I've ignored it."

Nanao began to cry softly. "Ten years, Shuu. Ten years. I ignored my mom for ten years. And right now, I feel like I'm just a bucket of shit."

Whoa, _that's_ a load to be carrying, Shuu thought. He shushed her and let her cry for a while, giving her the opportunity to get it out of her system. "Is that how it went?"

_"No,"_ Nanao choked, saying it in such a nasty, self-critical way that it was hard for Shuu to believe. "That's the thing. It was okay. Awkward, but okay. Like things would work out; that both of us wanted to make up for lost time. So now I just feel stupid for not having done it earlier."

"Who knows, Nan-chan," he said reassuringly. "Maybe it wasn't the right time until now. Yadomaru-san's whole life as a Vaizard has just been shattered. Her home was destroyed, three fellow vaizard were killed - maybe it took a bit of upheaval to get things to where they are today. You can't knock yourself for it. If I were you, I would be happy about it."

She sniffled and wiped her eyes with her fingers underneath her glasses. "I am," she admitted. "...It's hard and sad and uncomfortable, but it feels - promising, I think."

"Good, then."

"Yeah," she sighed, sniffling. "Ugh, you and your damn promises, Shuu. You really make me do all kinds of silly nonsense."

"Sure, 'cause smuggling babies was _my_ idea," he teased.

"Oh hush," she said, giving up and letting him win. "I swear, Shuu. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't keep such onerous vows."

"You mean I should know that you love me just because you keep your word?" he fired back, amused.

"Exactly," she insisted contritely.

"Well, then, I suppose now is a bad time to ask you to make good on another promise."

Nanao pulled away from him in surprise. "Oh no - what is it this time?"

Shuuhei turned an altogether different shade of serious. "Nan-chan, it's time to tell me everything there is to know about Saya."

"But I said that I wouldn't tell you until - " Nanao cut herself off. "...No - Shuu - "

Hisagi grinned like a devil.

"No - you - aargh," Nanao groaned. She had been so absorbed in the conversation with Yado... er, her mo... uh, Yadomaru-san that she must have not even noticed. There was no other explanation for how she could have missed a monumental wave of reiatsu like that. "But... but..."

_I don't want to tell him, Sister! You stall him!_

"Shuu..."

Hisagi got up from the desk. "You promised, Nan-chan."

_Break it!_

No, Nanao said. I can't do that. "You - you really did it, Shuu?"

"Bankai," he confirmed. Considering what he had been through recently, it wasn't surprising. Giving away what could have been his first child? Pssh, after that, bankai was a cakewalk.

Nanao groaned. "You and your damn promises," she grumbled, moping.

"It's only fair," he teased. "Or I could hold out on you like you do for Saya..." he added, not entirely teasing.

_NO!_ Saya yelled. _Don't give in!_

Hey, Nanao muttered mentally. Not fair. I like sex, too, you know.

_Too much!_

You're a pain and a hypocrite.

_He won't make good on his threat!_

Saya, I like sex way too much to challenge his willpower. This is Hisagi Shuuhei we're talking about. He grew up in a whorehouse. He could withhold sex for _decades._

Nanao put her hand to her head. This was turning out to be a rollercoaster of a day. "Shuu... does it have to be now?"

Hisagi thought for a minute and decided he was going to be compassionate. "Tonight."

"How about after the Session for Aristocracy?" Nanao haggled.

Shuu just snorted and rolled his eyes. "No. Tomorrow morning at the latest."

"Forty-eight hours," she offered. "So I can make sure my calendar is free so that we can go far away from Sereitei."

"Bullshit," he laughed. "Your calendar's right here on the wall. Your whole week is free. Tomorrow night, final offer."

Nanao pouted. "We'll see." She cut him off before he could say what she knew was coming. "Yeah, I know, I promised. Fine, fine. I'll tell you. Just not now." I need some wine, she thought. Today was turning her life upside down. "You and your damn promises," Nanao muttered. "You better appreciate that I love you. It's the only reason I'll tell you."

He laughed as he gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Oh, I do," he teased back, and then headed out of the office before she tried to bargain with him some more.

Nanao slumped down in her chair. I have to tell him.

Crap.

-:-

Kuukaku was grievously upset. This is all my fault. I was off drinking and partying while she was getting gouged in the face. What an awful woman I am.

What a crap life you've had, Hinamori-kun. You were such a sweet girl. A kid, really. Not old enough to understand the cruelties of the world. I know. I learned it the hard way when I was young, too.

You shouldn't have even come here. You should have stayed out in the Rukongai. Never entered Shinou Academy, never shown anyone your promising kido, never let Aizen find you. He used you so badly. He probably let you glide past every hurdle, removed every obstacle, silenced any naysayers who said you were too young or too fragile.

You never would have been pulled up through the ranks too fast, thrown into a lieutenant's seat and told you were worthy of being a vice captain. Given the stresses and pressure of high military command before you even finished your teenage years.

No, you never should have come. You never would have been betrayed by your idol, never would have been destroyed from within, never would have put yourself in harm's way again.

Kuukaku thought back - far back. Far, far back. She remembered her young days, when she and Yoruichi had been promoted to captains together almost two hundred years ago. Most people in the Gotei 13 didn't realize how old Kuukaku was - she was over a century older than her husband. Byakuya had still been a very young cocky brat when Kuukaku, who had been an equally gifted youngster in her youth, had been the captain of the 10th. When Banzo Tanabi ascended to the Kido Corps - that dirty rotten bastard piece of shit who could suck on Hell's inferno for centuries for cutting off her arm - Kuukaku had left the Gotei 13, too upset and conflicted over the fact that they had promoted him even though he had mutilated one of their captains in the name of justice.

Banzo Ichihime wasn't the only one who hated her father.

Kuukaku saw herself in Momo. She was a kid who had been betrayed by her captain, the same way Kuukaku had felt betrayed by the Gotei 13, nobility, and Central 46; all who seemed to have cared more about Banzo's favor than her arm. Central 46 had at least gotten their due when Aizen had killed them all; nobility had been forced to welcome Kuukaku back into the fold and she had made them suffer her wrath in their pocketbooks a thousand times over; and Banzo Tanabi had died in a shroud of mystery. Kuukaku still resented the Soutaicho, but she was a forgiving person in general and had decided that it would do her no good to actively keep the grudge.

She also knew how hard it could be to pull yourself together. Kuukaku would have probably ultimately committed suicide if it hadn't been for Kaien and Miyako, who had promised her that she could be just as strong with one arm as she had been with two. They had nursed her back to health and encouraged her and helped her heal, both physically and mentally. Kuukaku's swordsmanship had faulted, but she made up for it in kido; which had always been her strength anyway. It had been a long and painful road to recovery, and when the invitation to rejoin the Gotei 13 as captain of the 5th had come, Kuukau had realized that she knew what it meant to survive.

Her round trip had been over a century, though; a century in the time of a grown woman who knew how to navigate the world. Who had already been hardened and tried and tested, who had already gone through the excruciating challenge of learning bankai, losing it in her lost depression and confusion, and then earning it all over again. Here, though, Hinamori Momo had no more than a year or two to overcome Aizen's betrayal and then run the division all by herself. That was hardly enough time to understand the ramifications of one's own experiences - and here she was, destroyed all over again.

No, Hinamori-kun. I don't care how promising a lieutenant you've been, and I don't care how much you've proven to me you deserve the position. No, Momo-chan - you should have never come to the Gotei 13. You deserved a better life than this.

Kuukaku was nearly in tears. The hospital room's stark sterile aura didn't help her feel like the world - or the coming news - was going to be any less cruel. "Don't sugarcoat the prognosis," she said, unable to turn her gaze to the woman who had just entered the ICU behind her.

Unohana Retsu took a deep breath. "Unclear. Hinamori walked all the way to the infirmary, and she was covered in blood, a lot of it not hers. Reishi flows indicate that she had casted some pretty potent spells, I speculate it was to blow a hole open somewhere to let her escape. Her principle cause of collapse in the infimary was exhaustion and dehydration, as opposed to blood loss or brain damage. She was clearly very functional before we treated her."

Kuukaku clutched her short arm in frustration. "But you said that she had a cut all the way into her frontal lobe. Doesn't that affect higher cognitive function?"

Unohana shrugged. "It should, but brain scans are miraculously normal - so much so that I even recalibrated my equipment for fear of machine error. But no - normal. As best as we can tell, she has no irregular cerebral activity."

"But her eye was..."

"...Forcibly removed, yes," Unohana confirmed in a fact-like tone.

Kuukaku cringed again.

"With respect to that, I and Iemura San Seki performed reconsructive surgery, but it was done with an aim towards function over form. Cosmetically, she will have some very bad scarring all around the eye socket that we may be able to partially address later. Thankfully, we were able to use a stock artificial eye, although it isn't a perfect color match - brown but a shade or two off. Not terrible. We were, however, able to connect it to a regrown occular nerve. Her vision has an eighty percent chance of returning to normal, although in the future she may develop a stigmatism. Hinamori is still physically in her late adolescence, and while her natural eye is likely fully developed, there is always a chance that we will need to do some adjustments in the future."

"Are you saying that she'll be back to work in a week?" Kuukaku stared blankly. "That's hard to believe, Unohana-san."

"...I didn't say that," Unohana admitted.

Kuukaku looked down at Momo in the hospital bed. She was in a hospital robe, tightly wrapped around her zanpakuto in an agitated sleep. She constantly groaned, moaned, or whispered incomprehensible speech to herself, occasionally throwing in a swear word in Korean. Kuukaku found her pose disturbing - the zanpakutou's hilt side was tucked tightly between her thighs so that the hilt could not be seen, and Momo had crossed her arms over the sheath wrapped tightly in her chest. It was as if she was trying to protect it from theft, as though someone would take it away from her. Either that, or she was humping the damn thing.

Truth be told, Momo looked like she had been hit by a truck. Wrapped up in a ball in that hospital bed, Kuukaku felt immense pity for her. Her chocolate brown hair had been shaved off, and her face and head had an awful, bumpy mottled bruise around her puffy left eye with hundreds of stitches that made her look like Frankenstein's raccoon. Her tiny, seemingly frail figure had needlemarks up and down her arms, and there were still chafe marks on her wrists and ankles where it looked like she had been in chains. She looked like she had been a refugee from a war zone in the worst abyss of hell.

Kuukaku was angry and disgusted. "Someone did this to her, Unohana-san. Someone chained her down and tortured her." If I ever get my hands on the asshole who did this, I'm going to jam my next fireworks display down their scrawny little throat until my hand comes out their shithole.

Unohana exhaled. "...Yes," she agreed. "It appears to be the case. Someone who brought her to the brink of death and held her there, drugged just enough to keep her from dying. Even if she somehow walks home today - which, considering her miraculous state is theoretically possible - she will undoubtedly suffer severe psychological trauma. Whoever did this is an animal."

"Do we have any idea?" Kuukaku asked, frustrated. She wanted to kill someone right now. She had a _Hado 63: Thunder Roar Cannon_ waiting, and there was no one among the Gotei 13 who could cast that particular spell like Kuukaku could. Anyone who doubted her skills as a captain only had to be on the wrong end of that hado once. Only once - because there wouldn't be a next time.

"Yes, I think so. Hinamori was covered in blood everywhere, most of it not hers. We've identified six, possibly seven different groups of DNA. One of the DNA strains that we found through topical swabbing of her chafe marks - meaning, DNA outside the pool of blood samples - matched some of the DNA evidence we found on Matsumoto Fukutaicho."

Kuukaku's eyes narrowed to slits. "That can't be a coincidence," she said. "Both were chained down to tables and brutally assaulted with pharmaceutically-supported torture, and from what we understand, neither were raped, which is highly unusual in female torture cases."

"Precisely," Unohana confirmed. "There is very strong evidence to indicate that Hinamori-san was assaulted by Matsumoto-san's attacker. According to the reports from Matsumoto-san's rescue mission, that means the attacker is an NATA agent named Q - the same agent who was responsible for overseeing Shihoin Tokine's imprisonment."

_Bzzz bzz bzzzz bzz bzbzzz bzzbzbbzzbzbz!_

Kuukaku echoed her zanpakutou's question. "Didn't your report say that she was muttering 'kyoo' noises all night - as in 'Q'?"

The realization hit Unohana, too. "Yes, I did - of course. That would certainly lend support to this hypothesis."

_Bzzz! Bzz! Bzzz bzz zbzzb zzbzbzbzbzzzbz!_

Kuukaku listened to Firefly's theory and drew the same conclusions. "Shihoin Tokine was raped and nearly killed last night," Kuukaku noted, "and then her assailants went after Banzo Fukutaicho. Byakuya-san suggested that there were political motivations for the attempted assasinations, since the Session for Aristocracy begins tomorrow. We were trying to see if Hinamori-kun's attack was connected, but we couldn't figure it out. But this is a connection between Hinamori-kun and Shihoin-chan... Ugh."

"What is it, Shiba Taicho?"

"There's got to be something missing. What would Q want with Hinamori-kun? She wasn't on the rescue mission." Although I wanted her to be. Did someone know that? Did someone know that I had recommended Hinamori-kun in place of Ise-san? Even so, I still can't figure out what Matsumoto-san's attacker would want with Hinamori-kun. "Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"...Unless Hinamori-kun wanted revenge for Matsumoto Fukutaicho and went out hunting for him." Oh, Hinamori Baka. You went off alone, didn't you? Damn you, Baka Momo. You should have come to me. We could have torn out this asshole's throat together. Why didn't you take me with you? Didn't you trust me? Have I been that bad of a captain?

Kuukaku swore at herself. What a failure I've been lately. First, I cruelly spit in my sister-in-law's eye with my goddamn brain-stuck-in-my-ass forget-to-think-mouth, and while that's going on, I'm not really catching the warning signs that my lieutenant is having a psychological breakdown.

My own vice captain going it alone. Hinamori Baka, and bakabaka me for letting it happen. _Ksa._

Hinamori groaned and rolled over, and Kuukaku could see the hilt of her katana sticking out from beneath her buttocks, which were bare in the open-backed hospital gown. "Hey - wait a minute, that doesn't look like Hinamori-kun's zanpakutou."

Unohana shrugged. "I know. Reishi scans tell us that it's hers, but I agree that it looks nothing like Tobiume. Hinamori-san refuses to let go of it, so we can't run a full gamut of tests. We couldn't even pry it out of her hands when she was sedated for surgery - every time we took it, she would wake up, violently flap about and scream. We decided it was better to just let her keep it. But we were able to run some very low-precision spectral scans here, and I can tell you that the numbers indicate very ambiguous morphology. I wish I could understand more from that, but I can only say it is abnormal when compared to her file."

Kuukaku frowned. This was bad. No, this was far worse than just bad. Whatever was going on, Hinamori was in miserable shape. After what had happened to Matsumoto Fukutaicho, Kuukaku realized that this Q bastard was capable of just about anything. "Like the poor kid doesn't have enough CPT reports in that folder," she muttered.

"I've already filled one out."

Kuukaku exhaled. "Thanks, Unohana-san. I owe you one."

Unohana hesitated. "You did say that you were worried about political assassination, correct?"

Kuukaku's eyes widened as the sword on her back buzzed like someone had fed it gasoline. The as-of-yet unverbalized word of caution hit her like a freight train rumbling across the tracks at a billion miles per hour. _"Ksa,"_ she swore, whipping out her cell phone. Fear seized her with a vice that wouldn't let go, balling in her stomach and quivering in her gut. No, no, no - this is bad. We are spread far too thin. This is bad. This is very bad.

There was supposed to be a third target.

One that was inaccessible.

One they couldn't reach because it was tucked far away in safety, under the watchful eyes of half a dozen captains.

They were going to go after the baby.

-:-

Akon was surprised to see an old face in the lab, and not surprisingly, she was carrying an enormous book under her arm. "Yadomaru Fukutaicho?"

"Lisa," she corrected. "Everyone here is so goddamn formal all the time."

Akon chuckled. "Nice to see you again. What can I do for you?"

"I was looking for your lieutenant. I can't remember her name."

"Rantao Fukutaicho?"

"Yeah, her."

"She's in her office. Second door on the left."

"Thanks," she waved, and proceeded down the hallway. The door was open and the woman at the desk was focused intently on some paperwork. Lisa took the opportunity to survey her. She was an attractive woman, to be sure, but Lisa knew that Kyoraku didn't hook up with ugly ladies. Hesitating and careful not to disturb the quiet, she watched carefully as Rantao processed some papers and typed into the computer, typing at what seemed like was a hundred and fifty words per minute. The clickety-clack of keys rang in her ears, and Lisa finally knocked on the door and walked right in.

Kiku was on her feet in a nervous shot. "- Hello," she greeted, puzzled by the presence of this particular guest.

"You're Rantao-san, right?"

"Yes," Rantao nodded. "And I believe you must be -"

"-Lisa," she confirmed.

"Uh, what can I do for you?" she stumbled. Having Shunsui's ex here was not exactly a positive development.

Lisa tossed the giant book onto Rantao's desk, where it landed with a spectacularly loud thud. "This yours?"

Rantao looked down to see that it was a copy of her _Studies on Reiatsu Synchronization and Serialized Spirit Channels._ She had published it only eight months before she had been promoted to vice captain. "...Yes," she stammered. "Why?"

Lisa looked at her indifferently and then adjusted her glasses. Rantao realized it was the exact same gesture that Nanao made all of the time. "...It was pretty good. A little dry, but comprehensive. I have some nitpicky comments about parallel soul synchronization as it applies to shinigami hybrids, but that's not really a significant criticism. Pretty impressive overall."

Kiku was thrown off guard by the compliment out of left field. "Uh, thanks."

Lisa sat down in a chair in front of the desk. "Kyoraku Taicho treating you okay?" she asked, stern but not confrontational.

Kiku followed suit, baffled by the seemingly forced atmosphere of congeniality. "...I don't have much to compare him to, but he's been a gentleman."

"He's not chasing skirts left and right anymore, is he?"

Kiku laughed meekly. "I don't think so, but with his reputation, I have to admit I'm making a best guess from what I can tell." Because I'm a paranoid loser and use my zanpakutou to figure out where he is all the time, and so far I haven't yet caught him where he doesn't belong. "He seems earnest, at least."

"Slept with him yet?"

Kiku's eyes bugged out. "I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind," Lisa shrugged, although she seemed to be somewhere else. "How are you and Nanao-chan?"

"Okay, I think," Kiku said carefully. "We had a misunderstanding early on, but we talked through it pretty quickly and we've gotten along peaceably ever since. She's... a bit stern, even a bit scary sometimes - she has a temper. But we have an understanding."

Lisa's eyes shifted curiously, and she interrupted. "What kind of understanding?"

Rantao hesitated. Yadomaru Lisa was equally as imposing as Ise was. "Shunsui-kun is her father, but my relationship with him has no bearing on my relationship with her. We... Ise-san and I are still getting to know each other."

"I see."

Kiku paused. This was extraordinarily uncomfortable. "Um, do you want some tea?" she offered, remembering that this was the polite thing to do here in Soul Society. Personally, she drank coffee now. Black, loads of sugar. She had gotten used to it when stationed in America for so long. Tea just didn't do it for her anymore.

"No," Lisa said, shaking her head. "I... I was just stopping by. But thanks, though."

"...Sure," Kiku said wearily. She was worried, as usual, that she had offended her guest.

"Oi, Rantao-san?"

"...Yes?"

"...You can have Kyouraku Taicho," she said as she got up to leave. "But Nanao-chan will always be mine first."

Kiku nodded slowly. "...I understand. And I - I think that's the way it should be."

Lisa assessed the new 12th division vice captain. "I guess we have an understanding, too."

Rantao smiled in relief, but then worry seized her again as she contemplated the potential sensitivity of her next statement and whether or not she should say it. "If... if you could forgive me for commenting - I know it's not a perfect parallel, but... Lots of parents get divorced and remarry, and the children are forced to deal with the consequences. I can't help it that I feel like the ugly stepmom, but... I don't want to step on anyone's toes. I didn't expect to end up in such a complicated mess. I'm really not trying to intrude; it just sort of happened that way. But - but I..." Kiku paused and exhaled in frustration. "Sorry, nevermind. I'm just rambling."

Lisa adjusted her glasses with a restrained sigh. "...There isn't anything wrong with being a stepmother," she finally said. "...That's the job some people just have to play. Nanao-chan is smart. She will realize that, too. And, you're definitely not ugly. I'd sleep with you."

Kiku turned a very bright shade of red. "Um, thanks," she gulped. "But, uh, I -"

Lisa laughed. "Take care, Rantao-san."

Rantao, still too embarassed to say anything, just gave a weak smile and waved as the ex-lieutenant left her office.

-:-

_That evening_

Rukia walked into Senseis' house to find Kitsune hanging upside down from the ceiling. He had apparently taken a pair of claw hammers and used them to scale the wall and across the ceiling. This was evident by a long trail of holes in the plaster. He was now clutching the hammer handles between his toes and testing how long he could hold on in this position. Considering that he was only ten years old and barely even into preschool yet, this was a surprising feat of strength.

"Bad time?" Rukia asked Unohana gently.

"There is no such thing as a bad time," Retsu answered sweetly, ignoring her son who had now started swinging back and forth from the ceiling.

"Um, what happened?"

"Kitsune is helping us putting in some new track lighting, that's all," she answered with a straight face and a cheery smile. Rukia had the sense that this was the solution that Unohana Sensei devised on the fly in order to keep Komamura Sensei from having a nervous breakdown we he saw the living room.

"Are... are you really okay to watch Hikaru here?"

"Of course," Retsu said cheerily.

"I... I would have the servant staff watch him, but Nee-sama and Nii-sama suggested that I leave her with you as a safety precaution."

"I was the one to suggest the idea," Unohana replied, dismissing Rukia's objections. "So many of the captains will be at the Session this week, but Saijin and I are here. Abarai Taicho and Hitsugaya Taicho insisted that they also be on call if we need backup, just in case. Besides, I already know about her conditions and am prepared to take care of her. It really is the best solution, both from a medical and a security standpoint. You have no reason to feel like you are imposing, all four of us have a personal interest in her safety. She's practically family, isn't she?"

Rukia smiled contentedly. Renji would never let something happen to Rukia and Ichigo's baby, and Toshiro would fight to the death to protect his niece. She was sure that her two senseis felt equally resolved to protect her. Rukia was warmed by the fact that she had so many people who cared about her and her family.

"Arigato, Unohana Sensei," Rukia bowed politely.

Before Rukia could voice any other protestations, Retsu looked up to Kitsune, who was laughing in excitement. "Kitsune, do you want to see Hikaru-chan?"

"Ooh! The baby is here!" he yelled enthusiastically, and dropped down to the floor. He rushed over.

"Ahem," Unohana said pointedly.

Kitsune's eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh, sorry." Then he straightened up and bowed. "Welcome, Rukia-obasama."

Rukia giggled. Kitsune was a handful, but he was cutest when he was minding his manners. "Good evening, Kitsune-chan. Where is your father?"

Unohana interjected before her son could answer that question. "He is unclogging the toilet. We've been working on potty training. Kitsune is still learning how much toilet paper is appropriate."

Rukia eyed him with a mockingly suspicious glare, teasing him playfully. "How much did you use? C'mon, tell me."

He laughed and giggled. "A whole package!"

Rukia laughed in disbelief. "A whole roll?"

"No, a whole package!" he laughed. "Six rolls!"

"Kitsune..." Unohana said sternly.

"Um, sorry, Mama, not funny, I forgot," he said apologetically, trying to keep himself from laughing. "Can I see the baby?" he asked excitedly.

Rukia bent down and opened up the little bundle in her arms. "See?"

"Ooh! She's pretty!"

Rukia smiled and gave a polite, cheery laugh, standing up again and handing Hikaru to Unohana, who took her in a very motherly fashion. "Did the Kuchiki staff bring over the items?"

"Yes," she answered. "It all arrived about an hour ago. We have the stroller and the bassinet and diapers and formula and clothes - don't worry. I'll even make sure I change all the diapers so that you don't have to worry about that, either; I understand her privacy is important to you. Really, we are all set. You have nothing to fret about."

Rukia hesitated. She didn't like the idea of being away from Hikaru, but she knew she was going to have to do that sometimes. And there was really no better set of babysitters anywhere. Her zanjutsu senseis were the warmest, most pure-hearted people she knew.

"Don't worry, Rukia-obasama! If any bad guys come, I'll shoot them, like this!" Kitsune shouted, and then started running around the room in circles like a roadrunner with a rocket booster. _"POW! POW! POW!"_ Then he stopped suddenly and shouted, "And then I'll beat them up and put them in timeout and tell them that no one can hurt little Hikaru!"

"-Chan," his mother corrected.

"Sorry, Hikaru_-chan_!" he said, not skipping a beat.

Rukia laughed. Kitsune was as wild as they come, but he was a sweet kid. "Well, I'm glad to know that you'll take good care of her." Rukia gave Hikaru a last kiss on the forehead. "Say hi to Komamura Sensei for me. And tell him I want him to teach Hikaru everything he knows," she teased.

"We will!" Kitsune cheered. "Bye bye, Rukia-obasama!" and then without waiting for any further confirmation, he darted out the back door. Rukia could see he was rolling around in the garden dirt. Somehow, though, she had an optimistic feeling; as though Kitsune would be toned down by the presence of another child in the home.

"He must sleep well at night," she laughed, watching Kitsune climb up the side of the building, jump down, and then repeat the process.

Unohana laughed and revealed a moment of personal strength. "Praise be the ancestors forever and ever."

Rukia burst into laughter, patted Hikaru's head one last time, and departed. She had lots of notes to review for tomorrow's gabbing and galavanting.

-:-

_The next morning_

Rantao's face fell as she gazed into the mirror. She looked ridiculous.

After a century of throwing on her wrinkled shinigami uniform and a lab coat, Rantao was not very fashion-conscious. That is to say, her definition of the word fashion was 'clothing without obvious holes'. She had never owned a dress, a skirt, a blouse; it was really much more straightforward this way. To think that she was now expected to don this ludicrous bathrobe that supposedly passed for formalwear. Somehow, she had already managed it once before for the Kotetsu-Yamada wedding, but she had cheated and used safety pins to hold everything into place. The Session for Aristocracy was just a bit more extravagant. Unlike Isane's wedding, she even had to wear her hair up.

How did I even get myself into this mess, she wondered, trying to fiddle with the jeepers-this-fat-belt-thingie-is-such-a-pain-in-the-noggin. Shunsui had invited her to join him for the three-day Session, and Rantao had initially refused. Not only was she a commoner, but she was so far removed from Soul Society culture that she would be embarassing even for a regular Rukongai citizen.

Shunsui had convinced her that he would walk her through it, and that she would be really missing out - great food, fabulous hotel accomodations, the lap of luxury - she really shouldn't dismiss his offer so easily. Even if the idea of hanging around a bunch of unfamiliar nobles was daunting, it would at least be a nice vacation for her, and the experience was not to be missed.

Persuaded, Rantao realized that it was probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and decided that she should go. Only to forget that it likely meant she would be staying with him, and that his invitation to join her was an intimation that she was ready to share a bed with him. It wasn't exactly the message she wanted to send him, even if she was undecided on that particular item. Even if she thought that Shunsui wouldn't toss her after a naked rendevouz, she didn't think this was the right time. Especially at the Session for Aristocracy. She could see the headlines now: _Kyouraku of Pureblood Families Screws Street Rat Under Aristocracy's Roof._ Because that would go over _so_ well.

It didn't help that in truth, Rantao was a Stranded One; someone who came to Soul Society without any family whatsoever. That put her squarely at the bottom of the pecking order in terms of social status. Not that it really mattered anymore; she was far too old for most to know of her origins. The only ones who really knew anything about her were Shunsui and the lab rats back at the Soul Resonance Lab in Nevada. Not that she really cared about her status so much. As long as Shunsui didn't care, it wasn't an issue; and considering that his own daughter was a Stranded One, it didn't seem likely to matter. The fact was that most of Rantao's life as a shinigami had been defined by her stint in the US.

Far away from nobles and nobility and these gosh-darn yukatas and their oboe-oba-obi-whatever-you-call-its! _Aaargh!_

After messing around with the belt, trying to figure out how to make it look all nice and smooth like it should be (and wrinkling it horribly in the process), she finally managed to make it look almost normal. She decided some simple steam kido could be used to iron it out when she was ready. In the meanwhile, her next major task was her hair.

After being typically klutzy and poking herself in the skull seven times with the chopsticks, and having her hair constantly collapse, Rantao cheated and got a rubber band. She normally kept only the front of her hair in ponytail, with the express intent of keeping her hair out of her eyes. Instead, she looped the tiny tight black band around all of her hair up top, then proceeded to wind her hair around to hide it. Carefully, she inserted the chopsticks as ornamentally as she could, and then tentatively put her hands down.

Of course, the bun collapsed.

Oh fooey. It's going to be a long morning.

Now more than ever, Rantao wished she had some real friends here. She hadn't had any time to get to know anyone. The truth was that between Urahara Taicho and Shunsui, she had any number of women that she could have connected with, including Shihoin Yoruichi, Ise Nanao, and Ukitake Kiyone (even though she knew that her last name wasn't actually Ukitake). Banzo Ichihime and Hikifune Muertara were also both relatives of Shunsui, although the latter she had yet to meet. Of them, Rantao had hoped to acquaint herself with Yoruichi and Muertara, who were more or less the same age. In any event, a female friend would have come in really handy at the moment.

Getting completely fed up with her hair, she grabbed another rubber band, stuck it around the balled up rope of hair, and tucked the chopsticks in as best she could to hide them. So there. If they say I look stupid, well, I could have told them that a long time ago. Stupid village mole trying to play dress up with the fat cats. Gee willigers, what a downer. Knicked if I do, and knicked if I don't. Shucks.

Rantao then proceeeded with makeup, which was just as much of a chore. On the other hand, at least that she could do reasonably competently. Unlike traditional Japanese garb, Rantao wore makeup just about every day, so that was relatively straightforward.

Reaching for her fake glasses, she decided that the old clunkers wouldn't even be worth bringing. She would pretend that contacts were the order of the day. Rantao thought it was about time to tell Shunsui that the glasses were fake, anyway. She did like them as a fashion statement - they made her feel more academic and, at the very least, superficially competent - but other fashion ploys were at stake at the moment. In the meanwhile, she would go bare-faced.

Pun quite possibly intended, considering what kind of fool I am likely going to make of myself, she thought.

After making sure that she was only slightly off-looking, she then checked her bag and packing list one last time to make sure she had everything. Satisfied that her small rolling suitcase contained her travel necessities, Rantao slid her tablet PC and its optional full-size keyboard dock into the outer pocket. While she had a fairly powerful smartphone that could basically do anything she needed (including storing her vast collection of music), there was simply no way she was going away for three days without a real computer. She had a feeling that she was going to be taking a lot of notes at the Session, and being able to type them up comfortably was essential.

Speaking of gizmos, her phone rung. "Hello? Er, _moshimoshi_?"

"Ne, Kiku-san, you'll be beautiful even if you don't take another ten minutes."

She rolled her eyes. "Laying it on thick and you haven't even seen my awful hairstyle."

"It's the beauty inside that makes you radiant, darling."

Rantao secretly sparkled while pretending to dismiss him. What could she do, she was easily charmed. "How many times have you used that line before?"

"Mean," he grumbled.

Kiku laughed. "I'm coming, okay? I just need to get my zanpakutou."

"Can't wait to behold your splendiferous resplendence, my precious moonstone."

"Are you seriously going to talk like this for the next three days?" she teased, opening up the door to her apartment to find him standing there. Not surprisingly, he was dressed in his everyday outfit. He never seemed to take anything seriously.

She wondered if he even really took _her_ seriously. She was always doubting.

He smiled lazily as she took her katana off its sword rack and tucked it neatly through her obi in a vertical fashion like she normally wore. "Nope," he said.

"What?"

"Not unless you want to look masculine."

She stared at him funny.

"Here," he offered, and gently placed his hand on her hilt to remove it and its scabbard. The second he made contact, her spine shivered as the electrical charge burst from her soulcore. If she was pretending that she didn't want to sleep with him, she certainly just gave herself away, as did he - you don't touch another's zanpakutou unless you know you have an invitation, and if you didn't have one, your sword would protest. In this case, Occulus Omnispectivus was far from protesting.

Kyouraku instantly realized his gesture was premature. "Sorry," he immediately apologized, retracting his hand. "...I should have asked first."

Rantao had a sudden craving for him to follow through. Without thinking - because she often forgot to think in socially awkward situations - her mouth jumped her mind. "...No, that's - it's okay, ...go ahead."

Tentatively, Shunsui very respectfully (with two hands), slid the sheathed katana out of her belt. Kiku's heart raced and slammed against her chest in a loud, heavy, excited rhythm. She could feel his grace, subtlety, care, and Mississippi-mud-pie-I-want-more-of-that-smexy-feeling as he gently slid the sheathed end through the back of her obi knot. Rantao's mind raced with uncontrolled thoughts of lust and desire as the slow, sliding motion of entry could be felt in more than just the small of her back as it passed laterally against her waist.

He finally let go, and Rantao exhaled without ever realizing that she had been frozen still.

Oh my, she thought.

_OH DEAR HEAVENS, MADAMOISELLE, I WANT MORE OF THAT,_ Occulus begged from behind her.

...Don't tempt me, Kiku commanded, not feeling too stable at the moment.

Kyouraku passed around back in front of her, clearly trying to underplay what had just happened. "...And that, Kiku-dono, is how you should wear your zanpakutou in the presence of nobility."

Rantao breathed in and out heavily in a very bad attempt to regain her composure. "I... er, uh... thank you," she finally stammered. When she finally had her mind put back together, she gave him a mocking-but-admittedly-sultry look. " '-dono'?" It wasn't an honorific reserved for commoners.

He smiled handsomely. "You'll get used to it."

"...We'll see," she teased, and when he offered his arm, Rantao took it bravely - with considerably more confidence than she was actually feeling at the moment. A lot could happen in three days.

-:-

"Sheldon, buddy! Do you have my precious little device yet?"

Grimworth was startled by Q's sudden entrance into the underground storage compound. Q always made him uneasy, and he always seemed to appear out of nowhere. "Not yet - working on it."

"What's taking so long?"

"It's not like you asked me for a chocolate bar, Quentin. Everything is on timelock. It requires two-thirds of the chamber's entrance codes to unlock in a secret vote. I've been able to snoop into a-little-bit-over-half of the judges' rooms and enter their stolen access codes. But I can only get so many done a night. It's been a while since I've done the whole covert entry, you know."

Q shrugged. "Getting fat in here, eh? Plumped up and juicy?"

Sheldon gave him an annoyed look. "You sound like you're going to eat me, Q."

"How do you know I won't?" he smiled. "I've got nothing against cannibalism." Sheldon's eyes opened wide, but Q gave him a good hearty slap on the shoulder. "Just kidding, man, c'mon! Just poking fun. I like my meat lean."

The Central 46 judge's face turned white just as he turned it away from his unwanted guest. He continued rifling through the box of records. All he wanted was to go back to his room and suck on a bong while his attendants sucked on him.

"Well, that blows," Q frowned. "I was hoping for a party."

"You and I don't have the same type of parties," Sheldon deadpanned.

Q laughed at that. "Anyway, what are you doing now then?"

"Insurance," Grimworth said flatly. "Getting you some goods to convince you not to doublecross me."

"C'mon, I wouldn't do that!" Q said, annoyed. "At least not right away. I'd give you a chance to escape, you know."

"You have no morals, Q."

"Of course I do," he answered with a laugh. "I am the center of the universe, and everyone else is a tool for my use. A nice, simple-to-explain, easy-to-remember morality that really doesn't leave me with a lot of guilt. It's much easier that way."

"You're a bastard," Grimworth sighed, pulling another file out. Sheldon didn't even notice how much this statement was beyond hypocrisy.

"Of course I am!" Q smiled cheerily. "But I'm a friendly one! That's gotta count for something, right?"

Sheldon ignored him and handed him a stack of reports. "Here, I know you wanted this."

Q took the papers and started rifling through them. "Hmmm? What is this?"

Sheldon chuckled. "The shinigami are idiots, did you know that?"

"Sure did," Q confirmed, still rifling through the list of names and spectral ratio statistics. He wasn't totally sure of what he was looking at, but it seemed vaguely familiar.

"They've been getting duped for some four thousand years already. These are the omega registers."

"The what?"

"The omega registers," Sheldon repeated. "A list of the most dangerous zanpakutou in the past four thousand years, since the list was first started."

Q's eyes lit up like the paper was made out of diamond with platinum script. "Really?"

"Yeah," Sheldon confirmed. "The shinigami are such idiots. Why would they need a classifier to tell them that a zanpakutou is 'more dangerous' than others? Special disposal, my ass. We've been keeping the dead omega blades in storage for millenia now. How do you think Smith was getting his hands on all of the really nasty ones? There have always been people in Central 46 who wanted to overthrow the shinigami, but I think you're the first person that actually figured out how to properly leverage this data. Most of the traitors over the years were just using them to make chi blades."

"Wow, this is awesome!" Q said, rifling through the pages now that he understood them. "Does it have Kyouka Suigetsu in here?"

"The list isn't complete," Sheldon said. "But it might be there. Look through it."

"Damn that Morgan," Q muttered. "I don't see it in here. And I was so close!"

"Well, not my problem," Sheldon said. "Just remember, before you go God, just tell me to get the fuck out of here."

"Sure thing!" Q said excitedly, still sifting through the data. It was tantalizing. Then he realized that there was no way he was going to be able to use all of it. He pouted. "I'll have to pick the best ones from the list. Just cramming in one is going to be hard enough."

"How many do you think you can get?"

Q thought for a moment. "Three at most. If I make the spectral flows orthogonal, I can have each one operate on a different axis. The problem is that I can't necessarily predict how much one spirit axis would influence another. I might end up with something unstable. I don't really have time to experiment. The truth is, I think Hinamori's had a double axis, although I don't know if that's just the natural flow construct. It doesn't necessarily prove my theory."

"You do understand that I have no idea what you're talking about, right?"

"Yep," Q said. "I just like talking to myself. I'm crazy like that."

No shit, Sherlock. "Well, you do what you like. It's getting late. I've gotta get back to the treasure hunt. If I'm lucky, I can unlock the preliminary storage room tonight; although I doubt it. Probably won't finish until tomorrow night."

Q continued skimming through the data. He recognized a lot of the zanpakutou on the list; many of them he already had the data for since it had passed through his lab before. But this data was far more precise than he had; his numbers only went to eight decimal points. These went to twelve. He only had one data set that was more precise, which went to sixteen digits; but that was originally all he thought he would have neeeded.

Now I just need to figure out this: two, or three? I think I can do more than just one, he reasoned. Two would be more stable; although three would be more powerful. He had to think about it.

Ah, what the hell, I'll do two and if it goes well I can try for three, he reasoned. Seems sensible.

Besides, once Sheldon finally gets me the Hougyouku, it should be easy enough.

* * *

_Bet you didn't see that coming. (I am, of course, taking advantage of the fact that I diverge from the manga after chapter 396.) Reviews please! And seriously, some of you are really lurking. I know you're out there, let's hear what you have to say. :)_

_**Next chapter:** Not quite yet a gyrating hurricane of wild baboons with chainsaws, but the Session for Aristocracy begins!_


	42. Machiavellian Maneuverings

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. Barbie is a registered trademark of Mattel, Inc. References to Fading into the background's fanfic used with permission.

_**Translator's note: **The root 'ouji' means 'prince', and the root 'oujo' means princess. The root 'hime' also means princess._

* * *

_"I have her birthday list, Ichigo."_

_"How bad is it?"_

_"I don't know. Most of this stuff I've never heard of. But from what I gather, equally as challenging as last year."_

_Ichigo took a deep breath as he readjusted the very-very-very-long-distance cell phone on his shoulder. He was in between patients at the moment. "Okay, let's hear it."_

_"Hikaru said any of the following would be fine - the first item was either a zombie-ninja or vampire-samurai Barbie, she didn't care which."_

_Ichigo sighed. "Next."_

_"Next was the complete Sylvester Stallone collection on Hypno3Disc and the Jane Austen Signature Compendium."_

_Ichigo put his hand to his face. Hikaru had to be, by far, the most gender-confused kid in any dimension, anywhere. "Next?"_

_"A ballerina-bazooka Super Spy Awesome Soldier action figure with pink camoflauge."_

_Ichigo's eyebrows twisted into a nearly impossible contortion. "Okay, now I think she's just pulling your leg."_

_Rukia sighed. "Who knows. But I have absolutely no idea what the last items on the list are - maybe you know?"_

_"What are they?"_

_Rukia struggled to pronounce the English words written in very badly romanized katakana. "A... 'Fender Stratocaster' with a matching 'Mark Wood Sabre 5'."_

_Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief. It would be at least ten times the cost of anything else on the list, but at least it wouldn't complicate anything. "An electric guitar and an electric violin," he clarified. "Perfect. I'll get those."_

_Hikaru already had equivalent acoustic instruments, so Rukia was sure that this was what she really wanted. Rukia's little musician, she was. "She's totally your daughter, you know."_

_"We think," he laughed, citing the old private joke. For all they knew sometimes, Hikaru might have actually been their son._

_~ Shopping for Kuchiki Hikaru's 22nd birthday, who before graduating out of her elementary school education was already considered a virtuoso in multiple instruments_

* * *

_"Are you really sure you want to cut your hair so short?"_

_[Yes, Okaasama. It's an absolute pain. I have no idea how you practice dueling with your long hair constantly getting in your face. You don't even wear your hair up!]_

_"But... but we could trim it," Rukia suggested. "What you want is so..."_

_[Boyish?]_

_Rukia looked askance, feeling guilty. She didn't want to hurt her daughter's feelings, and she acknowledged that this was a sensitive issue. "...Short," she insisted. "You have such beautiful hair! It's a shame to cut it all off."_

_[But it's practical, Ma,] Hikaru complained, using an informal slang reference to her mother to be a bit pushy. [I don't like having my bangs in front of my eyes all the time like you do. They drive me crazy when I practice, and Kohei-kun is always yanking on them when we spar, because he's a vindictive little bastard. Even Kenpachi Sensei recommended I do something about them.]_

_Part of Rukia wanted to encourage Hikaru's right to self-expression. The other half wanted to simply suggest that Hikaru should use hair clips._

_[I can always grow them back when I'm older, Ma - c'mon!]_

_Rukia wished Ichigo were still alive. He would know how to handle this situation. Ichigo had always been better at this than she was; he had always understood the teenage years better than she ever did. When she had been a teenager, her life had been about surviving the streets of Inazuri. Rukia understood what it meant to have an identity crisis - she had certainly suffered that journey herself - but it was distant and not fresh in her mind. Rukia missed Ichigo the most at crossroads like these._

_[Okaasama,] Hikaru pressed. [It's not like I'm asking for a nose piercing or a tattoo on my cheek, or anything else that would shame the family name. I just want my hair to stop getting in the way of my vision. Is that such a big deal?]_

_Rukia pursed her lips tightly until a proposal could be heard in her head - from a voice that she would always remember. "How about this - how about we take a look at some different hairstyles and pick out something that is equally practical and-"_

_[Girly?], Hikaru signed, clapping her hands first in order to interrupt her mother._

_"- stylish," Rukia said firmly. "Something practical and stylish. Is that fair?"_

_To Rukia's surprise, Hikaru charged into her with an overly enthusiastic hug, and then stuck her hand in front of Rukia's nose with an emphatic thumbs-up [Thanks.]_

_Rukia smiled. Holding her daughter close, she felt that Ichigo had spoke to her from beyond the void, and was grateful to have found his wisdom out of the blue._

_~ Mother and daughter (son?), 75 years into the future_

* * *

Rantao's eyes opened wider than the Grand Canyon when she stepped foot through the archway. The walls around the appropriately-named Oligarch Hall had completely obstructed the view, but now she could see the massive building in all its glory.

The stone spires that erupted from the roof in an artistic architecture broke the rays of light that filtered through crystal statues and gold-trimmed parapets, all placed in a seemingly haphazard way. Pagodas adorned rooftop porches, laced with exotic flowers and foliage that teemed with every species of hummingbird and butterfly that Rantao could recognize, and many, many more that she never could have conceived to exist. Intricately carved stone columns, moldings, and statues stood in grand opulence, with rivulets of decorative rivets that appeared to be etched in silver.

"Wow," she wondered out loud. She had no idea that this place had even existed in Sereitei.

"Your tax dollars at work, eh?" Shunsui chuckled.

Kiku frowned at the suddenly injected negative realization that people were paying money to nobility to support such excess. "Killjoy."

He shrugged as they made their way into the foyer of Oligarch Hall. Inside, it was just as grand and rich as it appeared on the outside. Sconces lined the wall, each one with three candles - one that burned with a red flame, another with a green flame, and the final one with normal fire's hue. Lithium and borax candles, Rantao speculated. That's how they get the colored flame. Wow, that must be expensive.

The foyer's trim was a beautiful dark mahogany, a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the carpet underfoot felt like the threads were made of silk, as insane as such an idea would sound. There were four booths, each one with a different circle overhead - crystal, gold, silver, and copper. The latter two were crowded with long lines, but the crystal and gold were empty. Shunsui walked over to the gold line and was immediately attended to by a member of the hotel staff.

"Greetings, Master Kyouraku-sama, Captain of the Guard, may your presence inspire us with your most noble aura," the attendant bowed. "May we have the honor of registering you today, Our Gracious Lord?"

"Yes, thank you," Shunsui answered. Rantao couldn't believe that they were talking to him like this, nor could she believe that Shunsui didn't act as though he even noticed.

"It is our most cherished gift to serve you, Master Kyouraku-sama. We so humbly beg you to give us pardon while we insure your matters are in order," the attendant bowed again and then brought them over to a small computer station underneath the gold circle. "According to the last time you were here, we understand your preferences are for Higurashi 100-year sake in your room. Would you care for that again, or may we be pleased to offer you something else?"

Shunsui looked down to an astonished Rantao and put his hand on his chin in thought. Rantao had to consciously keep her mouth from flapping open. A century-old bottle of Higurashi sake was worth more than her entire year's salary as a vice captain.

"You know, perhaps some red wine instead this time?"

"A case of 1978 Roman e-Conti, perhaps?"

Rantao gulped. Imported wine from the World of the Living? And _that_ wine? _That_ wine? A _case_ of it?

"I think only half a case should suffice," Shunsui shrugged.

What in tarnation! Rantao wondered. What is this, throw a whole lot of money into a pile and burn it?

"Alright, if you need more you can always ask," the attendant noted as he marked it down in the computer. "And do you still prefer 70% silk, 30% satin sheets?"

"That's fine."

"Very well. Our file indicates that your geisha preference is for one redhead, one blonde, and one brunette. Will that suffice?"

Rantao audibly gagged at that, but Shunsui didn't seem to be fazed at all. "Actually, no thanks; I won't be needing any of their services anymore."

The attendant was a bit surprised. "...Alright, then," he nodded, quickly shifting his gaze to the chestnut-haired lady beside him. "And if I may be blessed to register your guest?"

"R-R-Rantao," she stammered, still in a bit of shock and looking accusingly at Shunsui. "K-K-Kiku."

"One moment," he replied, looking in the computer system. "...My apologies, Lady Rantao-dono, but we do not seem to have any members of nobility by that name."

"Rantao-dono is my majordomo," Kyouraku interjected, getting a gaping, open-mouthed look from the 12th division lieutenant.

_How dare he!_ she thought, disgusted. He's bringing me as his _servant?_ Oh, he's going to get it from me.

The attendant's eagerness seemed to dissipate. "I... one moment," he said while peering into the computer again. "I'm sorry, but it appears that the Kyoraku Head of Family is Kyouraku Jun-Jidano-sama, and he holds the right to bring a majordomo for the Kyouraku Family."

Shunsui smiled lazily. "Well, then, you have a problem, don't you."

The attendant began to protest. "I am sorry sir, but the Session is only open to nobility. An exception is made for head of family staff, excluding guests of the Lower Court."

Shunsui's smile remained but his tone of voice was eerily threatening. "I don't think you understand - I thought I said _you have a problem_, don't you?"

The attendant tried to keep things under control. "Please pardon me, Master Kyouraku, while I see what I can do." The attendant typed into the computer some more. A moment later, another member of the hotel staff suddenly approached with an elegant, old-fashioned rotary telephone on a silver tray.

Rantao watched with a seething, angry stare as Shunsui picked up the telephone and muttered a bunch of "Eh?" and "Huh" and "Hm"s into the phone. The only word she heard was "So?" Eventually, Shunsui hung up the telephone. "Do we still have a problem?"

The attendant looked at his terminal again. "It appears that Master Kyoraku Jun-Jidano has provided you with the option of choosing the Family's servant representative. Your personal name again, Rantao-majordomo?"

Kiku's eyes flared at the sudden change in honorific. Although -majordomo was among the most respectful honorifics a commoner could receive in Soul Society, she would have far preferred -san or -fukutaicho. "Kiku," she said sternly.

"Thank you," he said, handing a single room key to Shunsui and indicating that his room was on the 4th floor. "Have a nice stay," he said, passing the cart of luggage to Rantao, who was clearly the servant in his eyes - at least for the sake of deliberately offending her.

Kyoraku avoided a scene by intercepting the cart. "I believe you were ordering a bellhop, correct? Or did you mistake me for a member of the Middle Court?" he challenged.

The attendant laughed nervously, realizing he had likely crossed the line. "Yes, of course - ah, one moment."

After another member of the hotel staff came to drag their luggage around after them, Shunsui led Rantao past a marvelously exquisite water fountain in the main lobby and over to elevators, but Rantao was too angry to absorb it all. She refrained from saying a single word, preferring to chew Shunsui out in private.

-:-

Shiki followed her father silently through the large hall, pretending not to pay attention to anyone else. She had decided that she was going to outsmart everyone, even her father. Shiki had secretly tucked away a digital recorder in one sleeve with a telescoped microphone in the other. Following her father demurely, she casually aimed the microphone when reaching for a piece of food, careful to snatch up bits of conversation. Later tonight, Shiki would review the recordings, looking to gauge the concerns of the crowd. At the very least, she would be prepared by understanding the sentiment of the Middle Court, where she had some influence by virtue of her family name and wealth.

And if anyone double-crossed her, she was going to make sure that they were going to suffer for it.

-:-

Shunsui spread his arms open wide at the luxurious hotel room. "What do you think, Kiku-san?"

Kiku was ignoring the marble counters, the enormous four-post bed with numerous pillows, the jacuzzi and deluxe bathroom. She ignored the sunlit terrace, the leather couches, the 72" plasma screen TV, and the ornamental bone tea set that was clearly worth more than Rantao's entire life savings. She ignored everything in the room so that she could stare at him with an intensity that was beyond anything he had ever seen from her.

"...What?" he asked her, surprised by the normally meek woman's sudden aggressive stance.

"You - invited - me - as - your - _servant staff? !_" she burst at him. "I have never been so offended in my entire life!"

Shunsui's face fell. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding almost like he meant it. "But I was afraid you wouldn't come."

"Of course I wouldn't have come! Do you have any idea how degrading this is? Is that what you think of me?"

"No!" he insisted, waving his heads frantically in an attempt to calm her down. "No! Of course not! But how else was I supposed to get you in? And besides, this way you have your own room - I knew that would be important to you, in case..."

"In case what?" she demanded, throwing her hands up in the air in disgust.

Shunsui blew air out of his mouth in exasperation. "Kiku-san, I just wanted you to come and have a good time - "

"What, in your _pants?_ Where the blonde, brunette and redhead were last time around?"

I knew that was going to bite me in the ass one day, he mumbled to himself.

_Was that supposed to be a flashback reference?_ Katen Kyokotsu asked. _Because that was a really awesome orgy. Some more ass-biting could be fun. It's been a while since we've played around, by the way. What are you waiting for?_

Girls, you're not helping.

_Your dick, your problem,_ they shrugged. _We'll go back to imagining Occulus Omnispectivus coated down in polish and being buffed on a flywheel with a nice circular rhythm..._

Shunsui ignored his swords for the moment. "Kiku-san, I'm sorry."

"Me too," she said bitterly, and in a surprise flash step, vanished into the servant's bedroom, where she slammed the door with an ear-quaking deathrattle. Shunsui heard the lock turn, and then he heard her start crying on the other side of the door. More than anything, hearing her bawling was what really made his chest ache.

Wonderful, he muttered to himself. Finally someone I actually want to share all this absurd luxury with, and she locks herself in the servant's quarters. What a fine mess this is. Nanao-chan is going to kill me, just so that I can burn in Hell for a while before she kills me again.

-:-

Shiki had decided to brave her way to the upper floor of the reception hall, against her father's wishes. She was going to confront Banzo Ichihime and see if she could get any kind of reassurances. It was a bad gamble - she was putting herself in a position of subservience by showing her face here.

The upper floor was for the Upper Court and the Four Houses, and the latter had private rooms with guarded entry. Those were the truly exclusive clubs where the real power brokers resigned. Shiki could see other members of the Middle Court hoping to be given permission to join various discussions about the upcoming proposals on the legislative agenda. Some of the more powerful members of the Middle Court - Garaku, Tenzo, Naga Toretino and his son Uyida - were sitting on the side awaiting an audience with Kuzaku, complaining about how Kasumi-Ouji had refused to side with them over Hoganare and Kogane. She thought she had heard her father's name, Ryogi Hanbo Horo, mentioned once or twice; she casually directed her microphone in that direction. She would review their commentary later.

Shiki debated whether or not she should draw closer to a huddled conversation between Kyoraku Jun-Jidano and Hikifune Muertara, two very influential members of the Upper Court. The Hikifune Family was known as the 5th House, due to its pure-blooded status and influence over both the Gotei 13 and the Council for Nobility. Muertara herself was a wild card - like most members of the Upper Court, she was a shinigami by simple fact that she possessed a zanpakutou; although she was not a member of the Gotei 13. She was part of a high-ranking diplomatic branch of Central 46's public government, and so her loyalties were often torn between the needs of the Gotei 13 and the authority of Central 46.

Jun-Jidano and Muertara supposedly had strong ties. Marriages between the Hikifunes and nearly-as-royal Kyouraku Family were common, and it was widely speculated that Jun-Jidano and Muertara were courting each other. Muertara's younger sister, a promising unseated officer in the 9th division by the name of Yoshino, was only a little older than Shiki. According to rumor, Hikifune Yoshino served as Muertara's eyes and ears in the Gotei 13, but Shiki had never met Yoshino and had no basis to judge her by. All she had heard was that, like all Hikifunes, Yoshina was a talented swordswoman and that her katana skills would surely land her in the upper ranks one day.

Deciding that she was out of place amongst the truly elite, Shiki hurried to her destination rather than linger. The entrance to the Banzo reception was cordoned off for several feet even outside the doors, and Hoshimura-majordomo guarded the entrance with a pair of beefy hotel security guards.

Shiki bowed politely. "I wish to speak with Banzo-no-kimi."

Makina returned the bow. "The Princess of the Royal Banzo House is currently not accepting visitors."

Shiki's eyes narrowed in agitation. "I am disappointed that for all the talk we had, Banzo-no-kimi sees my presence here as a disturbance."

Makina's smartass smirk twisted onto her face. "On the contrary, Ryogi-sama," she said quietly, tossing her a small scroll. Shiki caught it easily, swiping it out of with the swiftness of a striking tiger. "Good day, Ryogi-sama."

Shiki realized that the -sama honorific (in place of the typical -dono) may have very well been a code for good intentions, and took the cue. "Yes," she answered haughtily. "Good day."

-:-

Makina bowed politely as the young 3rd division shinigami departed, only to find a very unexpected guest approaching afterwards. She stood up as tall as she could go, and her body tensed tightly. The presence of a Lower Court noble in the Upper Court's reception area could easily trigger some particularly nasty social backlash - and of all the Lower Court nobles to undergo that particular risk, she was most worried about this one.

"I have come to pay tribute to the great honor of the Royal Princess, Head of House Banzo-no-kimi the Wise," Kilikum Koniaji said. His deep, dark-eyed gaze bore an intensity that Makina thought was unmatched. It had been too many years since she had last seen her father's stare, and while it seared into her consciousness, it did not carry coldness.

Makina bowed her head demurely, if only to sever the link between her eyes. "The Princess of the Royal Banzo House is currently not accepting visitors."

"Then you must allow me to state praises to her great honor," he said simply.

Makina held her subjugated pose. "I am but an aid to her Highness and may only fulfill and enforce her command. I am not one to grant permission to the actions of nobility; you are free to do as you wish."

"Then tell the one I wish to speak with that I am most proud of her accomplishments, her intelligence, her beauty, and her wit. Inform her that the humble Family of Kilikum does not forget its loyalty and responsibility. Let her know that I am sorry I have not been able to extend these praises on a regular basis, but that they are always in my heart and that I am proud of what she has achieved."

A small tear in Makina's eye was hidden from public view, but the soft graceful smile of content she carried was visible to the nobleman in front of her. "I shall tell these things to the one you wish to speak with," she confirmed, business-like as per her station, but with a knowing warmth of appreciation.

"Then please tell the great honor of the Royal Princess that I wish her a good day and an enjoyable Session," Koniaji bowed. And with a noble's impersonal flourish - perhaps an act a bit too transparent for the circumstances - he turned towards the stairs so that he could return to the main reception, where he belonged.

Makina wiped the corner of her eye and sniffled softly. I love you too, Father. Thank you. Thank you for that.

-:-

Shunsui banged his head against the door. This was not working. "Kiku-san, please... just come out."

"No!"

"What if I get you some ice cream?"

"No! Why would that matter? No!"

"Dunno, worth a shot, I guess."

"Do you seriously think I'm that shallow?"

"No," he answered casually. "But ice cream helps everything." Shunsui sighed.

"No, it doesn't!"

"Kiku-san - it was either me or Urahara-san."

He heard her sniffle and stop crying. "Huh?"

"Urahara Taicho was going to order you to go as his majordomo. He shares with Shihoin Taicho, so he had an open slot. He wanted you to come, in case he needed your help to maneuver around while he was entrenched in noble affairs. I asked him if I could take you instead, because I thought that would have a better time with me rather than third-wheeling. I'm sorry if that was the wrong decision."

Shunsui heard some shuffling around, and then Rantao opened the door. She looked miserable. She just sat there, quiet.

"Think of it this way: if you were in Urahara's servant quarters, you have a fifty-fifty chance of being stuck listening to him and Yo'ichi romping like wild cats all night."

That made Rantao laugh. "Is that all you think about?"

"I don't think about any 12th division captain any more than is strictly required by my job," Shunsui said seriously. "Any more than that can induce vomitting."

Kiku smiled and then crawled over next to Shunsui and put her head in his lap. "If I was a woman with any sense of self-esteem, I would probably hate you right now."

Shunsui frowned. "I'm trying really hard. I know I have a reputation, but give me some credit here."

She exhaled. "You are such a handful."

"I know. But I love you."

Kiku shot up out of his lap like she had been jolted with an industrial-strength power line. "What?"

Shunsui pulled out a jewelry box, and Kiku began to panic. When he placed it in her hand, she actually started hyperventilating. Oh my, oh my, I am not ready for this, oh god, this is - this is - _what the hell is he doing? !_

"It's not a ring," Shunsui added after noticing her freak out. "Just open it."

Kiku did so, and inside was a small, modest pendant made out of amber, cut in a tear-drop shape. Having expected a ring, it was anticlimactic. Kiku looked at it, confused. It was pretty, but considering all the opulence that surrounded them, it was fairly plebian.

"It belonged to my great aunt," Shunsui explained. "She got it as a child, as her first piece of jewelry; and she loved it. It is one of the only physical items I have received as an inheritance from among the Kyouraku Family posessions. The whole black-sheep reputation and all that tends to get you squeezed out of the family wills, you understand. The truth is that I originally offered it to Nanao-chan, but she told me that if I was sincere about you, she would rather see you have it."

Rantao blinked in surprise before a semi-witty remark suddenly materialized. "Ise-san is testing you again, isn't she?"

Shunsui let out a pained laugh. Like all daughters, Nanao-chan was a constant battle. "So tell me - do I pass?"

Rantao should have hated his guts. She should have run in the opposite direction, far away from this charm-encrusted sleazebag that history told her he was. Fortunately, Kiku was too meek and submissive for that, and she put on the pendant. "For now," she smiled, and then gave him a kiss on the cheek.

-:-

Shiki unfurled the small scroll after triple-checking to make sure there wasn't anyone nearby who could spy on its contents. After a moment, she rolled the scroll back up again, and in a quick flicker of kido, made sure it was incinerated.

The contents gave her pause. It was as if everything Shiki had been concerned about had floated in the air, right out of her brain and into the hands of the elite who would capitalize on it. Either Banzo Ichihime was the smartest woman who ever lived, or she had a dangerously accurate insight into other people's minds. Inside the scroll had been only one question, but it spoke mountains of treatises:

_Who is taking the bigger risk - you trusting me, or me trusting you?_

The corner of Shiki's turned up in a crafty, pompous smile. It was all about risk. Plain and simple.

And Ryogi Shiki could handle risk.

She made her across the Upper Court reception room towards the Kuchiki's receiving room.

-:-

Kuchiki Byakuya's late first wife, Hisana, had been everything he ever would have wanted in a spouse. She was graceful, elegant; charming, soothing, comforting. Calm and calming, quiet and soft-spoken, serene, gentle and supportive. Kuchiki Hisana had been the epitome of grace. She gave herself to him, and helped him grow from a self-centered, cocky brat to a somewhat-less-self-centered dignified adult.

He remembered her fondly. The cool summer nights where she would sleep on top of him like a dozing cat, her tiny nearly-weightless figure curled up and bobbing up and down on his chest. The way she would smile at him with her soft eyes that would remind him of how much he treasured her. Byakuya cherished the monumental modesty of the woman that practically defined his identity; a woman whose selflessness and pervasive pleasantness had enraptured his soul.

His second wife, on the other hand, was the diametric opposite. Shiba Kuukaku was loud, boorish, and snarky. She loved to laugh at everything with a booming lack of restraint, and she freely expressed herself with a good smack to whomever she was talking to, regardless of whether it was intended to punish or to note affection. Kuukaku was sassy, serpentine, slick, and subversive. Her tongue could be as sharp as her sword, and she was flashier than her fireworks. Any presentation of dignity or grace was a complete illusion; nothing more than another tactic or ploy to get what she wanted, whether it be by force, sedition or seduction. She was emotional, and her emotion was transparent - she made no attempt to hide her feelings in any way. In a world that made sense, Shiba Kuukaku should never have been anything other than a thorn in the side of Kuchiki Byakuya.

And yet his heart burst with a shock of heaven's beneficence whenever he was with her.

She could certainly annoy him to the extremes - it was, without a doubt, practically a form of forplay for her. She could certainly make him wish he was somewhere else on occasion, so that he would not have to listen to her tirades about whatever was agitating her. Byakuya would never dishonor the dead, so he never sought to recall any flaws or imperfections in Hisana's character - but Kuukaku was very much alive and so Byakuya was free to remember all of her many faults.

It was one particular fault, though, that he never forgot. Shiba Kuukaku's biggest fault was that she had fallen in love with a man who did not deserve blessings. The foolish woman had learned to love him - Kuchiki Byakuya: the man, not the prince. How someone could look past all that and see his self-despising soul - the one that had make up for so many injustices that he had committed, all in the name of pride - how she could see his real self, he did not know. Yet he loved Shiba Kuukaku, no matter how paradoxical it was. She was the half of him he had lost. The human half; the one that kept him rooted to the ground.

So he acknowledged that, no matter how asinine her antics could be, he would do as she asked. Although not without protest. "Must I?"

"Oh, you must," Kuukaku said slyly, yanking off her husband's haori.

"I am perfectly capab-"

"Shut up and let me do it," she chastised, stripping Byakuya naked. "I've figured out how to do this with one hand just fine."

"It was not my intent to offend."

"Oh, relax," Kuuku snorted. "I'm just teasing you and your stuffyness."

Byakuya let out a sigh as she yanked his hakama and fundoshi off. "Satisfied?"

Kuukaku grinned. "Nope." Then she kicked him in his bare ass, knocking him into the hot tub in the Shiba reception room. "Now I'm satisfied."

Byakuya came up for air, only to have his wife pounce on him. It was admittedly appealing. Byakuya considered his wife one of his vices, which was one of the numerous reasons as to why their marriage had been so enjoyable. "There are more dignified approaches," he commented on her arrival and the sudden grip of her knees around his hips.

Kuukaku's vulpine smile was accompanied by an arousing display of tantalizing cleavage. "Name one."

"Allow me to demonstrate the numerous methods," he said; and then the lovemaking began.

-:-

Satara did everything she could to hold her composure. Formally, Hitori-majordomo was the servant head of staff for Byakuya-sama and Kuukaku-sama, and it was his privilege to be allowed to attend the Session, widely known to be the most amazingly awesome benefit that came with the majordomo position. Given that Kuukaku-sama came into the Kuchiki marriage without her own majordomo (and that she had never seen a need to hire one), the House of Shiba had an open position. This Session, Kuukaku-sama had bestowed the honor to Satara, who was the head waitress.

It was Satara's first time at a Session for Aristocracy. In previous years, Kuukaku had honored Tori-san, who was the revered personal attendant of Rukia-sama and was among the most elder of the servant staff. She was a legend among the servant class - she had been the waitress for Kuchiki Ginrei and his bride, Shihoin Kaori, at the former Head of House's wedding; the most prestigious honor a servant class could get. Then, she had been invited as a guest - a guest! - to the weddings of Rukia-sama to Kurosaki-dono and Byakuya-sama to Kuukaku-sama. This was unheard of, and it spoke to the greatness of the Kuchiki Clan.

Unfortunately, the elderly source of inspiration had been laid to rest last year; to the great sadness of the Kuchiki House. In her memory, a cherry tree had been planted in the middle of the servant's dormitories on the Kuchiki estate, with the inscription: _"May the sakura blossoms remind you of her cheerful countenance, and may you partake of the cherries as your partook of her wisdom."_ The plaque had touched all the servant staff, and made all of them - Satara included - to be proud of their service to the House of Kuchiki.

In theory, Kuukaku-sama could have given the right of major-domo's passage to her younger brother, Shiba Ganju-dono. However, Ganju-dono had never seemed to be able to wrestle anything away from his older sister, and so Kuukaku-sama had retained the right to select a member of the servant staff to come to the Session in her open majordomo slot. Satara had been stunned to learn that Kuukaku-sama had selected her, but Kuukaku had said that she thought fondly of Satara ever since Byakuya-sama had first courted Kuukaku-sama. Or, more accurately, since Kuukaku-sama had courted Byakuya-sama. Either way, Satara remembered the first time she found Senbonzakura and Firefly dancing together like a cyclone on fire. That was when she realized Kuukaku-sama had been a truly special person to the Kuchiki Head of House.

So Satara was trying very, very hard to be worthy of the honor Kuukaku-sama had given her. She was trying to stand firm and confident in front of the doors to the Shiba reception room, and admit no one. Keeping people out was the easy part - she said no one could enter, and the hotel security standing next to her made sure that it was enforced.

On the other hand, trying to stand firm in front of the door was challenging. Satara kept blushing endlessly, and was trying to figure out if she should somehow tactfully send a message inside. On the other hand, as head waitress, telling her masters that their raucous sounds of sex could be heard through the doors was perhaps just a wee bit outside of her jurisdiction.

-:-

Majordomo Hitori was stealing entertained glances across at Satara, who was hopelessly cute.

He had remembered how at previous Sessions, he too had been caught standing in front of a furious rumbling and tumbling on the inside of the Kuchiki reception room. On the other hand, he had been to enough Sessions to know that this was an important part of the game. Many had accused his masters of marrying for power rather than love, which Hitori knew to be preposterous. In any case, this year, anyone who passed by the Shiba chamber door would have that particular issue twisted in their face.

Hitori flashed Satara a smile as a particular loud scream of ecstasy came from the Shiba chambers. Satara was mortified.

He chuckled to himself. Hitori was excited for Satara, and hoped she would have a good time at the Session. Although servanthood in the Kuchiki House was considered a decent profession, the Session for Aristocracy was the one opportunity for a commoner to ever get some real luxury. Although they had to go on the off hours, the jacuzzis and spas were open, the entertainment center and bar would serve them whatever they wanted, and they were able to partake of all the same food and wine that was offered to the nobility. It was a rare treat. Hitori himself had grown up in a well-off Rukongai family in District 1, but as a kid, he never would have dreamed of the kinds of pampering he would get in Oligarch Hall.

Hmm, now if I can only get Satara to join me in the spa tonight, he thought.

He had been trying to work up the courage to make such an offer for a few years now. Satara had joined the Kuchiki staff a few decades ago, but it was only in the past few years that Hitori had taken an interest in her. He had pleasant interactions with Satara, and they had flirted on occasion; but both were normally so wrapped up in House affairs that there were few occasions for him to pursue things. Plus, there was competition to fend off. On top of that, he found himself surprisingly shy around her, which for a majordomo was surprising. His last consort had chosen to leave him for a younger member of the gardening staff, and while Hitori himself was not particularly heartbroken, he did realize it had been a while since he had pursued anyone - and now he was out of practice.

He had ultimately decided that at the very least, the Session would be a good opportunity. It would be just the two of them, away from the rest of their peers in the servant staff, and it was a conducive environment for him to make a move. Hitori's request to Kuukaku-sama to select the attractive brunette had been a bit overreaching - but sure enough, as expected, Kuukaku-sama laughed, gave him a punch on the shoulder, and told him that she hoped he would get lucky.

His amusement at Satara's predicament was interrupted by a woman he didn't recognize. She was in an elegant light-blue yukata, with shoulder-length brown hair and short bangs. A heart-shaped face with a crisp chin and comely eyes sat upon a thin frame.

"I wish to speak with Grand Lady Kuchiki-sama," she asked. Her high-brow demeanor certainly made her one of the Middle Court members. Hitori believed that they tended to overcompensate their actual level of authority.

"And who might you be?"

"Ryogi Shiki of the 3rd division," she answered confidently.

"Ah," Hitori smiled. "It seems that Kuchiki-oujosama has anticipated your visit. Welcome. You may enter on proof of identity and after submitting to a personal search."

That she was anticipated was a positive development. A personal search was not. "Will this suffice for my identity?" she proposed, holding out her zanpakutou.

Hitori pulled out a small device out of his back pocket. He waved it over her combat knife, and Shiki could read "Confirmed" across the small LED display's green letters.

Hitori then drew a metal detector and inspected her. She feared that he would take her knife, but he ignored it; he was far more interested in her digital recorder. She reluctantly allowed him to confiscate it and the accompanying microphone after he assured her that she would get them back.

"Are we done?" she asked, annoyed.

"Proceed," Hitori offered with a polite smirk, and then held the door open for her.

Shiki took a deep breath. This was the first meeting with her new captain. If things went well, she would become a seated officer and spend considerable time interacting with her. If not, well, then, she was in a very bad position. Kuzaku's threat hung overhead, and Shiki would be forced to take that avenue if she didn't have powerful allies to provide her with a different path. It was imperative that she make a good impression.

Her captain had been standing in a small waiting room. Shiki was immediately drawn to the striking Kuchiki Rukia - the long black dress underneath a gleaming white haori, white scarf and white pin in her hair. Even more striking was the zanpakutou at her hip. The most beautiful zanpakutou in Soul Society was sheathed in an appropriately beautiful ivory scabbard with platinum rivets, with it's stunning, signature string of pearls dangling from the sword's scabbard entrance. She was much shorter than Shiki had realized - in fact, absurdly short; barely more than four-and-a-half-feet tall. Nonetheless, her imposing presence towered over Shiki like a skyscraper built on top of the Himalayas. If Ryogi Shiki had been intimidated by Kuzaku Mikoto of the Upper Court, then she was downright humbled by the commanding power of her captain. The reiatsu alone was skin-tingling.

Shiki bowed deeply. "Thank you for allowing your most humble servant to come and pay you tribute," she said self-effacingly.

"Up," Rukia commanded sternly. Shiki complied. "Tell me, Ryogi Shiki - do you have what it takes to be swifter, wiser, sharper?"

Shiki's eyes popped open wide. That was what Her Majesty Banzo had asked her, word for word! She recomposed herself, realizing that she might have been caught up in something far more involved than she had previously thought. She instantly regretted coming into the Upper Court's reception - her father was right; she was out of her league. Fear of her self-imposed entanglemant started the adrenaline pumping in her ears. It triggered her schizophrenia, and Shiki inhaled deeply in an effort to force out the sweet clanging of chimes in her head.

No, not now, not now, she thought hard, trying to regain her capacity for intelligent speech. Not a good time for a schizophrenic episode. Words, form sentences, thoughts - string together, c'mon - c'mon... "I - I- I am here to - to..." she stammered, caught completely off guard. To save my own ass, she knew, but that wasn't something she could say.

Rukia's smug smirk was undeniably cocky. (She must have learned that particular gesture from Ichigo, she mused.) "Come with me," she ordered, cutting off any further comments from her guest.

Shiki was confused, but followed Kuchiki through the waiting room's door and into the main Kuchiki reception room. Her stomach was in knots as she feared the unknown. Inside, there was only one person waiting for them - and it was the last person Shiki would have expected.

Shiki stared at the sharp haori hung on the badass princess, framed between two even-more-badass bracers that glowed an unsettling color of midnight black. "...Banzo-no-kimi?" What are you doing here?

Ichihime grinned. "I prefer Banzo _Taicho_."

* * *

_Leave those reviews! You know I love 'em! **Next chapter:** Stuff happens. I might answer a few of your questions. Maybe. You'll just have to wait and see. That's all I'm saying._


	43. Sex and Intrigue, Part I

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Translator's notes:** 1) 'Oji' means uncle, not to be confused with 'ouji', which means prince.  
2) 'Urusai' literally means 'noisy', but it is also the common catchphrase for anything from "Be quiet" all the way to "Shut up!". It has a less rude flavor to it than you might come to think. Interestingly enough, the similarly-sounding "Yurusenai" means "unforgivable". Henceforth, you may occasionally here these two words sort of crammed together in a recent urban slang, e.g "Urusenai!", which means "Shut the fuck up!" - and that is rude._

* * *

_"Yes, Haha-ue?"_

_"Ah, Vo-kun," Ichihime said. "Sit down."_

_Vojiro reluctantly sat down in front of his mother's desk in her office. His father was there, too; which was a bad sign. Every single one of the Banzo kids, all twenty two - from Vojiro and Sarashina down to Lulu and Matisuta - knew that being called into the office was never something good. In fact, Vojiro would gladly bet his week's allowance that Sarashina was eavesdropping just behind the door, just waiting to see what she was going to have to bail him out of next. "Um, did I do something?"_

_Adame laughed. "See, Hime, I told you. He thinks he's in trouble."_

___"No, Vo-kun, you're not in trouble," _Ichihime dismissed, rolling her eyes. "But your father and I wanted to talk to you. You're getting older now, and we think it's time to have a conversation about girls."

_Oh my god, this is going to be awful, Vojiro thought. My parents may be cool, but this is not. Not cool at all. "About... girls?"_

_Adame chastised Ichihime teasingly. "Hime, you're embarassing him."_

_Ichihime rolled her eyes again, and then ignored her husband. "Vo-kun, I know that you are rather popular with the ladies, and-"_

_"Haha-ue, this is mortifying," Vojiro interrupted, covering his eyes. He could almost hear Sarashina snickering beyond the door._

_"What your mother is saying that it would perhaps be better if we started making introductions for you," Adame continued, not wanting Ichihime to screw up this conversation any further. "So that you could engage in your pursuit of a potential spouse in the normal fashion."_

_Vojiro just wanted to die. "Haha-ue, Chichi-ue - I, uh, appreciate your, uh, eagerness to-"_

_"We already have a request from the House of Kuchiki," Ichihime interrupted with a mischievous smile on her face. _

_Her eldest son's eyes lit up like she had just told him he had won the lottery. "Really?" he asked eagerly._

_"Yes," Ichihime nodded. "Byakuya-sama has requested that you consider an invitation to drink tea with his daughter, Hisako-chan."_

_"...Oh."_

_Ichihime regarded Vojiro's sudden crestfallen face with curiousity. Kuchiki Hisako was beautiful, intelligent, and accomplished. Maybe a bit stuffy, but Vojiro was a charmer; Ichihime was sure he could work past that. The Banzo Head of House was sure that her eldest would have been eager to snatch at the offer. "...You seem less than enthused."_

_"Uh - ah - hmm... sorry, Haha-ue. I - you can apologize, but... no thanks."_

_~ Son and parents, about a 150 years into the future_

* * *

_"Hey Rukia, you owe me five bucks today!"_

_"How about I pay you back with five dollars I get from you tomorrow?"_

_~ Rukia and Renji, circa two hundred years into the future;  
betting over the daily sparring match between their evenly-matched lieutenants, Shiba Kanchi and Hikifune Yoshino;_  
_widely seen to be a humorous proxy for their old sibling rivalry that had been dormant for many years_

* * *

Shiki was befuddled. "Banzo... _Taicho_?"

"What do you think, Shiki-kun?" Ichihime asked, using her personal-name-kun-honorific tactic to control the tone and tenor. "I didn't think this haori was the right style for me at first, but it doesn't look so bad, eh?"

Shiki was frozen. Banzo-no-kimi's white haori was like a quasi-kimono-quasi-dress, with long narrow sleeves and a shihakusho-style folding overlap in the front. She wore a highly polished, medium-width black leather belt that seemed to have no buckle, and the bottom half of the haori was skirt-like with slits up the sides until the belt. Her blindingly-bright blond hair was weaved into a braid woven over ear, and was looped at the end through an onyx ring that matched the belt and accented the bracers. She was sure that the stone ring could be used as a weapon if needed. Shiki had seen Banzo in her nonstandard uniform before, and last Shiki had seen Banzo, she had been in civillian's noble attire - but now Banzo-no-kimi looked like she was a demonic inflection of the Kuchiki House's stern, aloof regalia. It was as if someone had taken Kuchiki Rukia's royal demeanor and cloned the photographic negative.

"Very dignified, in my opinion," Rukia agreed, folding her arms confidently.

Shiki cursed herself. She had been an idiot. She had just been played. Shiki had come to the session saying how she was going to stab back at anyone who double-crossed her, but she had been lying to herself. What the hell was she going to do against two captains in the Gotei 13? Misfile some paperwork?

She was _fucked._

"I - I -"

"Relax, Shiki-kun," Banzo taunted. "No one's here to rip out your liver and eat it in front of you while you die."

"Not yet, anyway," Rukia added slyly.

"I don't do organ meat," Ichihime played along. "Do you care for liver, Kuchiki-oujotaicho?"

"On occasion."

Shiki's face would have gone green if she wasn't too busy trying to figure out how she could save face. She was in deep shit.

"Ha ha!" Ichihime burst out laughing. "Relax, relax. Have a drink, Shiki-san. What do you take?"

"I-I-I d-don't d-d-drink," she stuttered. Intereferes with my medications. Which I really wish were working better right now. Goddamn wind chimes, quiet!

"No? Too bad," Ichihime shrugged. "But please, there has to be something I can get you."

"Ch-ch-che-cherr-cherry j-j-juice." Oh crap, that was rude. I just asked a Head of House to get me a drink. In front of my captain. Epic fail.

"Hmm, sounds delicious," Ichihime thought out loud. Shiki studied the back of her haori as she turned around to face the bar -

Above a mesmerizing black pearl scabbard hanging from her belt at the small of her back - it must have been worth several fortunes - Banzo Ichihime's haori was emblazoned with the kanji for the number 7.

Shiki reached for her combat knife as she suddenly caught a metallic blur flying at her through her peripheral vision. Instinctively, she parried, smashing her knife against the flat of the blade, ducked the next swipe, and then dived and rolled to avoid Sode no Shirayuki from slicing her in two. On adrenaline, she quickly flipped grip from down to up, arm extended and in pose. Kuchiki Taicho was on her in a flicker, and Shiki deflected a classic samurai-style deathblow aimed at her shoulder; then cast a _Bakudo #39: Arc Shield_ to stop another at her ribs.

"Impressive," Ichihime commented, handing her a glass full of red juice. Shiki was breathing heavily with a sheen of sweat tickling at her brow, but she saw that her captain had already accepted a glass of red wine after sheathing her sword. "Nice bakudo you got there."

Shiki just gave a blank stare. Kuchiki Taicho looked as though not a single hair on her head had been misplaced. Yeah, she was in _way_ over her head.

"So what do you think, Kuchiki-oujotaicho?"

"She's far more talented than your average unseated officer, I'll give you that. You're probably a better judge of her knife skills, but her zanjutsu is pretty good. Open a bit more on the left side. Nothing that some heavy-duty training won't fix."

"See, I told you she's good," Ichihime said casually. Turning to Shiki, who still hadn't even taken a sip of her juice yet, Ichihime added, "Good advice, you know. You should listen to your captain. She did learn her swordsmanship from Komamura Kenpachi, see."

"K-K-Koma-mu-mu-mura _Ke-Ken-pa-chi_?" Shiki blinked. Since when?

"Since when, you're probably asking," Ichihime smirked. "Go on, take a sip, I promise I didn't poison it."

Shiki feared that she had, but took a sip anyway. It tasted phenomenal; like it had just been pressed that morning and iced to the perfect degree. It was more tart than sweet; just how she liked it - and the taste suddenly brought her brain back under control as her neurons stopped misfiring.

"Komamura-sensei and his vice captain were transferred to lead the 11th division yesterday morning, which is in dire condition right now," Rukia explained. "Kusajishi Yachiru has been temporarily transferred to the 7th and will serve as Banzo Taicho's vice captain, at least until things settle down a bit."

"A touch complicated, I know," Ichihime explained. "But no Head of House would be caught dead leading a division of barbarians," she said airily, quoting conventional thought of others.

"Oh please," Rukia chuckled. "Your kido is simply far too devastating for you to be the captain of the 11th division anyway."

Shiki set her glass down on a small table and then bowed very deeply and spoke quickly. She didn't want to be on the wrong end of anything devastating. "Forgive me, but I have not minded my manners, I -"

"Oh, suck it," Ichihime dismissed. "You're among friends, aren't you?"

Shiki stood up slowly. "...Friends?"

Ichihime set down her glass of gin on the bar. "Let's cut to the chase. Can you be trusted with top-secret, classified information?"

Shiki's eyes darted carefully as she tried to understand the implications of answering in the affirmative. "It depends," she said. "I am not bound by any promise to stay silent about an unjustified assassination plot, for instance."

Ichihime laughed. Rukia smiled. Shiki just stared, reverting to her haughty glare, not sure what it would do for her other than be better than a subjugated look of confusion.

"She's a real straightlace, isn't she?" Rukia asked Ichihime.

"The straightest," Ichihime laughed. "Just like we knew, and just like we expected."

Shiki's eyes narrowed cautiously as she went on the offense. "How do you know you can trust me?"

"I already did, didn't I?" Ichihime answered. "I know you didn't send the advance copy of my bill I sent you to anyone, nor use any of the opposition research to your personal advantage yet. Seems like a pretty reliable indicator of who I can trust, don't you think?"

Ichihime took Ryogi's silence as a concession of the point. "Alright, Shiki-san, here's the situation. There's a spy in Central 46, and someone in the Middle Court is helping him stay undercover. We need your help to smoke him out, and there's a part to play in order to sway the game. Are you prepared to do the right thing?"

Of course - now it makes sense, Shiji realized. Bill 46 - the legislative proposal that Banzo-no-kimi had sent her; the one that was sure to set off a firestorm in the legislative session. All the pieces were fitting together. Shiki wasn't being played - she was being _recruited._

She almost chuckled out loud, but kept herself in check. These rooms really are where the power brokers make the real decisions, isn't it. "I'm always prepared to do the right thing," she answered with an arrogant grin.

It was met with equally confident grins from the two captains, and the three women sat down and got to work.

-:-

Sasakibe Jego approached Nikayui Tesho. "Oi, Nikayui-san, I hear you have the opportunity for your son to marry into royalty."

As usual, Tesho appeared as though he didn't give a damn about Sasakibe or anything else, but he nodded politely. "Yes, thank you."

"I suppose a congratulations are in order," Jego said, handing Tesho a snifter of warm sake. "Shall we drink to it?"

Tesho politely took the snifter, and then the two men toasted and drank. Afterwards, Jego brought up his real topic of conversation. "So what do you think about the rumors, Nikayui-san?"

"What rumors?" Tesho said, face as gruff as ever.

"Don't give me that," Jego said slyly. "Surely you know something is going on."

"Sasakibe-dono, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Jego sighed in exasperation. "There have been an awful lot of deaths among the Gotei 13 elite, don't you think?"

Tesho looked out at the rest of the Upper Court reception area. "I'm not a shinigami; I couldn't say."

"My uncle, Chojiro-sama, disappears. Supposedly, he was kidnapped by humans and then his body was conveniently vaporized in an explosion of their hideout. I bet you believe that about as much as you believe that pigs fly."

Tesho didn't say anything, so Sasakibe continued. "Then Soifon is killed by a mysterious Quincy - only not the _last_ Quincy, but some other _new_ Quincy that mysteriously popped up in the World of the Living. Doesn't that sound suspicious?"

"I suppose it could," Tesho shrugged, not sounding particularly sold.

"Then both captain and lieutenant of the 3rd division are killed by mysterious hollows with swords - and we both know that the arrancar were exterminated."

"What are you getting at, Sasakibe-dono?"

"C'mon, Nikayui-san. It's obvious. Changes to the upper management of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd divisions? Gotei 13's Command Central, Onmitsukido Leadership, and the Sereitei Guard Unit? And then Shihoin Yoruichi and Kuchiki Rukia as the new captains? And there's even rumor your future daughter-in-law may be a new captain as well."

Tesho was angry at this last insinuation. "Do you have a point?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? It's a rebellion," Jego concluded. "The Four Houses want to take complete command of the Gotei 13, and kick out the rest of nobility. Then they can use their military position to overthrow us."

"You're delusional," Tesho muttered. "This is the same variation of the House Rebellion rumor that goes around every Session. It's just the Middle Court stirring up trouble, trying to bark like the bigger dog."

"But this time, the facts are awfully suspicious - and it's not just me. Kinfon is also concerned, and Kuzaku-san says Banzo threatened him to vote on a bill she intends to sponsor. You can't argue the facts. It's too convenient to be coincidental. They didn't replace Chojiro-sama with another noble, did they? No, they replaced him with a commoner - don't you see what's happening?"

Tesho rolled his eyes. "If what you say is true, than why is Omaeda Marechiyo still lieutenant for the 2nd?"

"I bet you that he won't be for long," Jego retorted. "Rumor has it that the 3rd Seat, Hana Tsubaki, is being groomed to take his place. She would be the first commoner from outside the Shihoin retainer families to be in 2nd division leadership for - for... for who knows how many centuries!"

"You're spinning conspiracy theories, Sasakibe-dono. Enough."

Jego grimaced. "The writing is on the wall, Nikayui-dono. Don't think that because you are Banzo's father-in-law that your family will be safe."

"Goodbye, Sasakibe-san," Tesho replied dismissively, and turned off to go get some more food.

-:-

"Oh sweet, sweet Caroline," Rantao exclaimed. "This is delicious!"

"Who's Caroline?" Shunsui asked, taking another morsel from the Upper Court Reception's buffet table.

"Never mind, it's an expression. What is this? It's amazing!"

"You really don't want to know," Shunsui said.

"Oh, c'mon, tell me!"

"Emulsified toad warts served in baked horse hoof with a sauce of liquified squid eyes."

Rantao hesitated putting another piece in her mouth. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Told you you really don't want to know."

Kiku set down the bite-size square on her plate. "I... I think I'll try something else. And this time, don't tell me what it is, even if I ask."

"Ah, Shunsui Taicho, Shunsui Taicho - I see you're wooing the ladies as usual," a man interrupted. Rantao was surprised at his appearance. He looked like a younger version of Shunsui, except crisp and clean-cut. Handsome and striking, even - like the kind of character you would expect to see as the daring prince in the latest summer movie about abandoned damsels in towers with long hair. "Who is your guest this time? Some enterprising unseated officer of your division?"

"Jun-Jidano-kun, so nice to see you," Shunsui grimaced. "This is Rantao Fukutaicho, of the 12th division."

"Why does he call you that?" Rantao whispered, socially inept as always and forgetting that Jun-Jidano could likely hear her.

"Doesn't want to acknowledge me as a member of the family or of nobility, so he found something polite enough he can get away with," he whispered back, clearly intentionally loud enough for Jun-Jidano to hear.

The younger Kyouraku's eyes slid towards Rantao's throat. "I see you've given your only family trinket to -"

"- a woman I care deeply about that you would be loathe to offend," Shunsui shot in, making it clear that he would not allow his nephew to take potshots this time around.

Jidano's face was a state of pleasant surprise, and then he laughed. "Haha, very well, then. My apologies, Rantao-dono. Shunsui Taicho over here has a tendency to make my life as a noble exceedingly challenging."

Rantao nodded to be polite, although her face wasn't too forgiving. She _did_ like that Shunsui was sticking up for her. He was definitely trying to earn some brownie points.

"Urahara-san said that you have a vested interest in participating in the actual legislation this year," Jidano said. "Why, decided that you might actually like to do something productive while you're here?"

"Do you mind?" Shunsui asked pointedly.

Jun-Jidano's smug smile was even smarmier than Shunsui's smarmiest. "Not at all."

Shunsui stabbed back. "How are things with Tara-chan, Jun-Jidano-kun? I've seen you two looking cozy lately."

"Do you mind?" Jun-Jidano returned fire.

"I don't care for hypocrites, Jun-Jidano. Get married first, before you care to comment on my guest next time."

Jun-Jidano's smile was borderline evil, but it was more crafty than sinister. "The difference between me and you, Shunsui Taicho, is that you are open about your polyamorous affairs, and I am discreet about my monogamous one."

Rantao didn't like this fellow. He was too slippery - half the time seeming like someone who could be your friend, and the other half seeming like it was only for the sake of self-gain.

"We'll see what Tara-chan says about that," Shunsui noted. "Hope you have a ring handy. Because I'm sure she wouldn't like the idea of her honor sullied in the middle of the Session."

"I don't need to answer that threat, Shunsui Taicho," Jun-Jidano laughed. "Hikifune Muertara would slit your throat herself," and then his demeanor dropped straight to a low growl, "and call you a lying, jealous rebel from the Kyouraku Family who is upset that she refused your hand in marriage."

_WHAT! ?_ Rantao thought, shocked out of her mind. He didn't tell me about that!

"Don't even think about it, Shunsui Taicho," Jun-Jidano cautioned. "You may be my elder in years but not in Family clout. We can agree to leave personal matters out of it, like we always have. You just be a good boy and follow the family doctrine, and you can have your stake in the legislative session all you want."

"The family doctrine, oh? And if I disagree?"

Jun-Jidano waved his hand in dismissal. He turned to leave, and over his shoulder simply answered, "Come now, Shunsui Taicho. Have we ever disagreed on important matters?"

Rantao breathed a sigh of relief as the official Head of the Kyouraku family went off to go poke fun at Omaeda Marechiyo, who was pigging out at the other end of the buffet table, as expected. "Wait - Omaeda Fukutaicho is an Upper Court noble?"

"Head of Omaeda Family, yep."

"But he's a moron."

"Good blood doesn't guarentee good brains."

Rantao was offended by that remark. All of this absurd excess and high-falutin' games of holier-than-thou were really starting to tick her off. She was more acutely aware of her commoner status than ever before, and to be honest, she was proud of it. To think that this was what most nobility was about? She was glad she wasn't a part of it. "Are you saying my blood isn't any good?"

Shunsui sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."

"And what was that about you proposing to - to - whoever it was?"

"Hikifune Muertara-chan," Shunsui explained. "It was a long, long time ago; when I was a teenager. Offer for an arranged marriage and all that. She refused because I was in the Gotei 13. The Hikifune Family is reknown for producing highly skilled shinigami, and they are naturally sent out on the most dangerous missions. Indeed, the Hikifunes have lost a lot of members in service to the shinigami: Tara-chan's uncle Hatami-dono and both of his daughters, Kirio-chan and Miyako-chan. At the time, Tara-chan had just lost her grandfather, great-uncle, and older brother to hollows; all of them had fallen in the line of duty. She didn't want to marry anyone who could meet the same fate, and so I was dismissed out of hand." Shunsui didn't bother to explain that his niece Kirio was alive but in the Royal Guard, since that was classified information. As much as he would like to share, Rantao didn't have clearance.

"Hikifune Hatami? I remember him! He was around before I left for Earth."

"Yeah, he was married to my older sister, Suzuki."

"The one who married into the Banzo family afterwards, and is Banzo Fukutaicho's grandmother, right?"

"Yes," Shunsui confirmed. If there was one thing Rantao did not lack, it was an excellent memory. "Although it's Banzo Taicho now."

"_Taicho_? Since when?"

"Since yesterday, from what I understand."

"I swear, Shunsui-kun, I need to take notes on this stuff. The Gotei 13 is like one big family tree."

Shunsui rolled his eyes. "A complaint you'll hear a lot over the next two days, I'm sure."

"Speaking of," Rantao wondered, "what exactly is the schedule? I mean, all this shmoozing and relaxing must be nice and all, but don't you have actual work to do?"

"The first day is always the reception. It can be used to simply relax, like I do; but most use it to meet with other members of nobility to try and gain support for their proposals during the legislative session. Tomorrow will be the yearly reporting, and will be about as exciting as watching paint dry. Those unlucky enough to have no majordomo to report for them must be present to provide their tax returns, water usage reports, damages and expenses, tax collections, et cetera. The rest who are not in attendance - essentially every member of nobility save for the Lower Court, who cannnot bring servant staff - will be spending tomorrow getting over tonight's hangovers."

"Sounds lovely," Kiku said, rolling her eyes.

Shunsui noticed that she had obviously picked up that gesture from Nanao-chan, who must have picked it up from his niece Miyako-chan. Wow, his life was really gel around those close to him - no more there's-a-whole-wide-world-out-there-to-learn-from anymore. Everything was consolidating around him; coming together around the individuals who were important to him. He decided it was a good thing, even if it scared him a bit. "The third day is the legislative session. That's when it gets exciting."

"So I've heard. Ise-san says it's a bunch of people screaming legalese at each other."

"It's more like procedural nonsense with a dash of spite and vengeance," he confirmed before frowning. "I have to say, it's weird hearing you call her Ise-san."

Kiku shrugged. "I'm sure she'll ask me to call her something else over time, but for right now, I want to respect her independence. Just because I'm your girlfriend doesn't mean I'm her best buddy all-of-a-sudden. I hope we'll be friends, but for the meanwhile, Ise-san it is."

"Did you just finally admit you're my girlfriend?"

Shunsui admired the clever, sexy grin. He could forget sometimes how beautiful a woman she was, even without the glasses. "Ssh, it's a secret," she teased, and then playfully bumped her hip into his.

-:-

Shiki's first task since leaving the Kuchiki reception room on the upper reception floor was to find Hikifune Yoshino, which had been rather easy. She was told to look for an open-eyed scarecrow in a white kimono with an explosion of colored triangles on it, standing with a glass in her hands but not drinking. Shiki had thought that it was an odd description, but it was a rather apt one.

She knew from Shinou Academy class rosters that Yoshino was roughly her age; only a year or two younger in chronographic years - but in physical maturity, Yoshino was evidently much younger. Whereas Shiki was clearly marital age in her early post-adolescent years, Yoshino appeared much more kid than teenager. The Hikifunes were not a family of buxom women, and at best had modest busts; but it seemed as though Yoshino had not yet begun to develop in womanhood yet. Her face was also very childlike, with a small oval head mounted on a lanky neck that looked slightly disproportionate. Her hair was black but with a significant brownish tint, and her spacy eyes were a bit buggy since she seemed to be staring widely out at something that Shiki could not recognize. Her beak-like nose hung over tiny closed lips, giving her a distinct appearance of having too small a face to contain everything that was in it. Shiki admitted that despite this, she was not unattractive; although she wasn't a stunner like Muertara was or like Miyako had been. It was simply more likely that she needed to grow into her features a little bit more. Like all Hikifunes, she wielded a katana for a zanpakutou; and it was visible across her waist in the back.

"Good evening, Hikifune-dono," Shiki bowed politely. "May I ask what you're looking at?"

"Hmm? Oh - just a hummingbird that seems to have stuck its beak into a watermelon on the table," she answered, pulled from her distraction. "See?"

Shiki turned her head, and sure enough saw the tiny bird slurping straight out of the open melon. "Odd."

"Even moreso when you consider that the watermelon has been soaked in vodka," Yoshino added amusingly.

Shiki laughed, but she was terrible at making small talk. She was hoping that she would have received a more direct means of getting to the point. "...Are you here alone?"

Yoshino turned to give Shiki her full attention, cautious sarcasm in full force. "Is that a question for curiosity's sake, or you asking me to dance?"

Ryogi was taken aback by that one. "Forgive me, I meant nothing more than a polite banter."

"Who are you, and what could you possibly be interested in me for?" Yoshino asked, exasperated.

She bowed. "Ryogi Shiki of the 3rd division."

"Hikifune Yoshino of the 9th division, nice to meet you," she returned pleasantly, not seeming hostile at all this time.

"The pleasure is mine."

Yoshino went back to looking at the alcohol-sipping hummingbird. "Whatcha doing up here? Come to chitchat about your latest proposed bill? I might as well tell you I have no influence over my sister, so you might as well give up trying to persuade our family's vote by coming to me."

Shiki was armed and ready for that. "Actually, I was looking for a sparring partner to practice while I'm here. I had heard that you might be interested."

"Me?" the young girl asked. "Sure! I'm bored as anything up here, and Neesan won't let me go back to the room to watch TV. Anything but listening to these jerkwads. Do you know how many times some drunk idiot has come up here just to hit on me? C'mon, you don't even know me and you want to marry me already? I get it, big super-rich family name and all that; but you would think you would wait at least until I started getting my _period_, for Kami's sake."

Shiki chuckled nervously. Too much information, thanks. Although, on the other hand, confirmation on Yoshino's age had been reassuring. "Um, meet you in the dojo hall in half an hour?"

"Make it forty-five minutes. I warn you, though - I may be young, but I'm good."

"Probably not as good as Kuchiki-oujotaicho," Shiki remarked casually. Then she enjoyed the puzzled look the young Upper Court lady gave her as she departed.

-:-

_Later that night_

Yoruichi triple checked the room for security. She had personally paid off the four security guards stationed outside Toki-chan's door very handsome sums of money, and added a violent death threat just in case money wasn't a sufficient motivator. Satisfied that Toki-chan and Kyon would be safe for the night (Kisuke had installed other, hi-tech security measures earlier that day), she returned to her own room.

When she entered, Kisuke was already in the hot tub with a glass of champagne. "Good thing I convinced Kyouraku Taicho to take Rantao-san, ne? We were able to get Kyon-kun in as my majordomo."

Yoruichi stripped off her clothes and slid into tub beside him. "I don't think Kyouraku-san took much convincing."

"You're looking ravishing tonight."

"I always look ravishing."

"Of course; tonight included."

Yoruichi sighed. "Kinfon is very upset."

"Over Soifon?" Urahara thought out loud. "I always thought the Fon credo was to be willing to die for their service at any time."

"Kinfon is considerably less loyal to me than Soifon was."

"Soifon was _obsessed_ with you," he retorted. "That's setting the bar a bit high, don't you think?"

Yoruichi didn't protest when Kisuke slipped his arm over around her and started rubbing her breast tenderly. "Soifon eventually forgave me for leaving Soul Society. Kinfon has a very sour taste left in her mouth. She's dependent on me, because I will be the one recruiting her Family members for the Onmitsukido - but I don't think she trusts me."

"Obviously," Kisuke said, tweaking her supple nipple in his fingers. "She's still not in the Onmitsukido yet, because there are no open seats. At least when Soifon was in charge, she could be reassured that she had the next slot. She's worried that you'll run off or retire before she gets in, and then she'll have no one to reliably keep her Family in power."

"It's no secret that Kinfon wants to go all the way to the Royal Guard if she can," Yoruichi said, allowing herself to be mildly distracted by Kisuke's kissing on her shoulder. She extended her hand and he deposited his glass of champagne in it, freeing his other hand to slide into other, more erogenous places.

"Yare yare," he muddled in between kisses that were dropping in altitude. "Time for politics later."

"Yeah... later," she agreed.

-:-

Ganju loved the Session for Aristocracy. To be sure, he hated nobles, and he stayed far away from everything. He never went to the reception; he just took in room service. However, it was a three day vacation with the triplets very nicely attended to in Oligarch Hall's full-time nursery. He could drink without worrying about whether he was tipsy or not, he could watch TV without being interrupted to change a diaper, and generally take it easy.

"Gaaaannnn-jjjjuuuuu..." Ina called. "...I'm out of the shower!"

And without the need to fret over his triplets, his wife was horny again. Kami, I love Sessions! he smiled as he leaped off the couch and dashed towards the bedroom.

-:-

Rantao was laughing. Laughing, laughing, laughing.

She was a happy drunk.

"That's a _-hic-_ great wine, Shun-kun," she said. "Pour me _-hic-_ some _-hic-_ more."

"Ne, Kiku-chan, I think you had enough," Shunsui answered, buzzed but still in charge of his faculties.

Rantao stumbled over and straddled him, and then rested her forehead on his. "I'll give you a kiss if _-hic-_ you give me more..." she offered, playing the part of a drunken temptress.

And tempting it was, but Shunsui didn't think it was a good idea. "Kiku-chan, I-"

She interrupted him with a full-on hard, spit-swapping kiss. Rantao was soon gulping down his face and neck and slipping her hands under his uniform, and Shunsui had a raging boner - but with gentle-yet-firm push he separated her. "I think you need to go to bed," he chuckled.

"Yes, yes, _-hic-_ bed! Bed, come to bed, _-hic-_ let's fuck like horny animals, _-hic-_ yes!" she cheered from the floor, which had broken her fall when she attempted to stay on her feet.

Shunsui lifted up his very intoxicated guest off the floor and put her in the four-post bed. He then went to the kitchen and poured a very tall glass of water and brought it to her. "Here, drink this."

"More _-hic-_ wine?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah, yeah," he chuckled. "More wine."

"Mmmm," she mumbled, drinking the whole glass in one shot. "Shun-kun?"

"Yes?"

"I need to pee."

-:-

Shiki returned to her room, exhausted but in good spirits. By the end of the evening, she and Yoshino-chan had become friendly, enough that the higher-class noble had decided that they were on a personal-name basis. Although Shiki was an unseated officer, she imagined herself as an 18th Seat in the 3rd; seeing as how it seemed so close within grasp. Yoshino had underestimated her, assuming that as an unseated officer, Ryogi still possessed mediocre skills. Hikifune was nowhere near the seats yet - she was pretty low on the 9th division totem pole at the moment - but despite her lack of rank, she was a devil with a sword.

Shiki had never imagined she would get such a challenge. The Hikifune sword style was one of the respected and most lethal styles among martial artists, and even though Yoshino was not yet a master in the art, she was very, very talented. Her buzz-saw backhands were packed with power; far more power than one would expect from someone who, in uniform, looked no older than a teenybopper. Yoshino also seemed very comfortable with kido, using _Hado #1: Thrust_ several times during the course of their sparring, although Shiki's zanpakutou could slash right through it due to its own special properties. It hadn't quite been an even match - Shiki had a slight leg up in overall skill: she could use shunpo. Yoshino still couldn't flash step, which was likely the only reason that Shiki could stay ahead.

The important thing was that Shiki had made herself a friend. Yoshino was painfully lonely at the Session; seen as too young to participate fully in matters yet too old not to be there. She complained that Muertara had forced her into playing dutiful reporter, which she didn't mind _too_ much, but felt that it isolated her and made it difficult for her to have a normal life. Everyone around her knew that she could be relaying everything they said right back into Central 46's ears; so no one trusted her. Shiki could understand what it was like to be left to fend for themself, and they had built the beginning of a quiet camaraderie over the past few hours. They had agreed that sparring had been great excercise, and would be far more exciting than sitting in on tomorrow's reporting agenda - so they had made plans to spar in the morning again; and then perhaps from there go for lunch. So far so good.

Fumbling for her room key, Shiki reached for the handle to realize that the door was slightly ajar. Withdrawing her knife from its sheath on the side of her shinigami uniform that she had worn for training, she shoved open the door; a kido spell ready at her fingertips.

"Put that toy away," commanded Kuzaku Mikoto, who was standing in the common area that separated the three rooms (one for Shiki, one for her father, and one for their majordomo). Ryogi Hanbo was present, and he appeared to be pressured into having admitted his guest.

"Get out!"

"I don't take orders from retainers," Mikoto replied nastily. The Ryogi family didn't happen to be a retainer to any of the older families; they were a burgeousie class who had used their money to purchase land from other middle court members; but the sentiment was clear. "Horo-san, you must teach your daughter some manners."

"By shinigami order, get out!" she repeated, flashing in between Kuzaku and her father. "Or so help me, I will slit your throat for disobeying military command!"

"A farce, if you ask me. With what rank? You're nothing but a - "

" - threat to your life if you don't leave this room in the next thirty seconds," she cut him off. "I've had enough of you! _GET OUT!_"

"Shiki-san - " her father Hanbo pleaded.

_"Urusai!"_

Mikoto reached for the katana at his back. Like all upper court nobles, he had a zanpakutou himself. "It's a shame, Horo-dono," he said, using her father's common nickname, "that your daughter's wild lunacy has infected her faculties that she would consider threatening me."

"Kuzaku-sama, please, I beg your forgivene-"

_"Hado #1: Thrust!"_ Shiki cast, hurling the upper court noble straight out the door. She promptly slammed it shut and bolted it.

Hanbo breathed a sigh of exhaustion. "That was not wise, Shiki. We will regret that in two days' time."

She seethed at him. "You _coward_."

Hanbo was surprised to see his daughter insult him to his face. She had never done such a thing.

"You let him in here? Into our quarters here? This is our haven, for our own respite - I will not accept our privacy trampled on by some egotistical megalomaniac!"

"Shiki-san," Hanbo sighed, "I-"

"Enough!" she shouted back. "I don't want to hear another word - I refuse to let him walk all over me, or you, or our family name!"

Hanbo became stern. He didn't like his daughter's attitude. "Don't be high-and-mighty with me, Shiki. He will send us to financial ruin. This is serious."

Shiki turned to him from the door of her room. "I learned something from Banzo-no-kimi, Father, that I will repeat to you now: All the money in the world will not buy me honor." Then she slammed the door behind her and prepared for bed.

-:-

After carrying her into the bathroom, letting her do her business by herself, and then catching her as she stumbled back out, Shunsui tucked Kiku back into the four post bed. By this time, she was barely conscious at all, and so he kissed her on the forehead. "G'night, Kiku-chan."

She surprised him by answering, considering how drunk she was. "Where'r y'goin'?"

"To bed," he smiled.

"I'm not _-yawn-_ wearing underwear," she giggled. "C'mon in, Shun-kun."

Against all odds, Shunsui thought with the right head. "Go to sleep, Kiku-chan," and then he kissed her on the forehead again. She curled up into a ball, and this time, he brought the covers over her and was now sure she was fast asleep.

Sighing to himself and hoping that he didn't regret not taking advantage of the situation, Shunsui went to sleep in the servant's quarters.

The old me would not be in this bed right now, he thought. Nanao-chan would be proud of me. If that's all I accomplish this Session, I won't be too upset.

-:-

Kyon had been very grateful for the opportunity to come to this very noble gala. It was luxurious, and their private room had been a mindbendingly-nice accomodation. It had everything that they ever needed, including enough music to keep Toki at ease and a kitchen well-stocked with every possible food and drink he could conceive of. He had even been able to make himself an authentic Greek gyro, with real Greek yogurt sauce. It was even fresh! He had no idea where they got real, fresh Greek yogurt sauce from, but it was fantastic.

After all of the excitement that they had over the past couple of days, Kyon was glad for the vacation. He felt fine, although his recent experience had been harrowing. He had worried that Toki would have been scarred into catatonia, but she seemed relatively resilient. It was obvious to him that she was still very much traumatized, but she had been built out of some pretty strong stuff. In a very short span of time, Toki had lost her adoptive brother John Smith, returned to Sereitei to find it a nearly completely foreign place, and then been raped and nearly killed. If Kyon had gone through half of what she had seen and experienced, he would have been crying for his mother to come take him away and tuck him in bed.

He speculated that, to some extent, her autism shielded herself from the brunt of the impact. Like most autistic individuals, her capacity for emotion was more limited while her capacity for rational, logical thought was larger. Yet while Toki demonstrated incredible intelligence, she still had a fairly broad range of emotion, even if her condition tended to force it out of view. She had a unique form of autism, close to the savant-esque spectrum but not quite along that neurological axis. Hers was more of a systemic input/output threshold imbalance rather than a disproportionate logic-to-emotion ratio, which explained her emotional maturity relative to other autistic peers. Overloaded sensory input was common among the autistic, but Toki had this particular component of her syndrome to nearly the extreme. He had only seen one other autistic patient in his previous career who suffered from the type of improper input filtering that she did. Although she had adjusted to it fairly well; given that a six-hundred-plus-year life span had given her the time to develop adequate coping mechanisms to make her reasonably functional.

In any case, he was glad that she was (for the most part) okay. He believed that their stay in this fabulous hotel, with its robust accomodations and opportunity for a safe, controlled, supervised vacation, was just what she needed.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard her calling him from the bathroom. "Kyon...?"

"Are you okay?" he asked, coming over to the other side of the door.

Silence. He waited, knowing it could take her as long as three minutes to answer. He only had to wait thirty seconds or so. "Yes."

"Can I get you something?"

"No."

"Do you want me to come in?"

"No."

"Do you just want me to stand here?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he said reassuringly. "I'm right here. If you need me to come in, you can just knock, if that's easier."

The silence continued. Kyon was an extraordinarily patient man - it was a requirement for anyone who worked with the autistic, and Toki especially - and in truth, he felt a bit relieved. Since the assault, she had almost been very clutchy; always staying within close proximity to him ever since she came back from the Banzo estate where she had run off to that night. Kyon knew the whole story, and he was happy that she had been able to fight back - but now he was happy, perhaps a bit selfishly, that she wanted him even closer by than before. He was glad to know that she found security in him, even though she had been the savior and he had been the useless one.

Toki slowly twisted the bathroom door knob, and he stepped back to give her room to exit. She eventually came out of the bathroom, stumbling awkwardly on a pair of black high heels that were her only article of clothing. Outside of that, she was 'well groomed' (as he would phrase it); and her normal loose bob had been slicked down with water, giving her a much more womanly look. Kyon eyed her from head to toe as he stuck a finger in his collar to loosen it, because it had suddenly gotten hot in here. "Um, I - I like the shoes."

"Kyon," she said, talking in her usual flat voice. "There are 365 days in a year; which is 8760 hours made up of 525,600 minutes; which calculates to 31,536,000 seconds in a year. The air we breathe is 78.084% nitrogen, 20.946% oxygen, 0.934% argon, 0.039% carbon dioxide, and then the remainder is a mix of neon, helium, methane, krypton, hydrogen, nitrus oxide, carbon monoxide, xenon, ozone, nitrogen dioxide, and iodine; with trace amounts of ammonia and about 1% water vapor.

"I am a shinigami. My zanpakutou is Genesis, the Creator; a zanpakutou spirit that has lived on for millenia and before. I have spent so much time in Hueco Mundo that I do not even know how old I am. My first husband was a good man who loved me because I accepted him, and because he accepted me. My father loved me more than I will ever be able to describe in words from any language. My mother was a cold woman who shunned me. My sister went on to become the next Head of Shihoin House. My brother was a human who adopted me because he felt I needed a home, and he loved me for reasons that I do not really understand - and I loved his brother even though I was never sure if he knew I was there.

"To me, these are all facts of the universe, equally embedded in absolutism. One plus one is two, one plus two is three, two plus three is five, three plus five is eight; and so forth, until the differential between _n_ and _n+1_ converges at phi. Gravity keeps us rooted to the ground, and water is the essence of life. These are immutable laws of science and nature, and how I see the world. And I love you, Kyon, and that is also immutable."

Kyon was so stunned from this speech - this confession, this protracted effort of speech that he had only heard once or twice before - that he was paralyzed in awe, confusion, and shock.

"For man and woman to procreate, they must engage in coitus. This is the law of creation, and it cannot be changed. And I want my children to have you for a father, and that want also cannot be changed. Therefore, Kyon, as surely as laws of thermodynamics prevent the universe from decaying into entropy, I want to copulate with you. Because I do not want to be tainted with someone else's seed. I want to be blessed with yours, so that I will have you with me for when you are no longer in this world."

He was so floored, shocked, confounded and dumbfounded that he could barely speak. "I - I love you, too," he said, feeling stupid. He wished he could say something more intelligent than that.

But she didn't seem to mind; in fact, she seemed to prefer the simple testimony. She smiled sweetly, and for a moment, she looked like a normal woman, unaffected by any unusual constraints or conditions. Kyon was entranced by her soft eyes and tiny, curled mouth, and he slowly leaned forward to kiss her. As per his protocol with her, he let her control where it went - and to his chagrin, it went nowhere. It ended with no more than an affectionate peck before her two fingers on his cheek stopped him. He looked to her with confused eyes. "Is- is something wrong?"

Her flat voice instilled within him a great quantity of calm; he realized now that he wasn't having some exceedinly lucid dream. "I asked Shihoin-no-kimi for these shoes because they are supposed to make a woman look sexy, but they are very uncomfortable. Will you still have sex with me if I take them off?"

_"Yes,"_ he answered very enthusiastically. _"Gladly."_ I've waited a pretty long time now, what's another two minutes?

With a very austere, seemingly unexcited yet hasty set of movements, she unceremoniously removed the shoes. Then she looked at him again. "Okay. I am ready now. What do I do?"

Kyon stopped himself from diving right into her at that question. "Huh? I mean, uh... weren't you married once before?"

"I did not like to be touched. Kaseira-kun was homosexual. Our marriage was never intended to be consummated. It was Father's idea. It was a very good arrangement for all of us."

The Greek man breathed deeply, running his fingers through his hair. Kyon had a joint masters in psychology and special education, but one thing they definitely don't teach you was how to instruct your patients to have sex with you. Especially when your patient may not have the legal standing to provide proper consent. Not that Kyon hadn't broken so many of those 'ethics' rules from another world by now. "Okay, well, uh... umm... let's start nice and easy, then - let's just go lie down in bed."

She followed after him and got into the large, plush four-post bed in their room, and Kyon turned the lights off - but then she spoke up. "No."

Kyon's heart squeezed in his chest. "No?" What? What? C'mon, now is not the time to back out, really - my willpower is pretty good by now, but this is pushing it...

"Lights on," she explained. "I want to be able to see you."

Alrighty then! "Okay!" he flicked on the lights, and practically tore off his clothes. He was already suffering performance anxiety as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, and then fumbled again while trying to undo his belt, and then getting his finger caught in the zipper. Eventually, he managed to shake off the last of it and he settled in beside her.

A few kisses later, things just sort of took their natural flow; and Kyon was careful to explain what he was doing when it came time to enter. She surprised him by wrapping her arms over his neck to embrace him in a rare moment where she actually pulled him close to her tightly. She was, for the most part, quiet and non-emotive; but he could tell from the pace of her breathing that she was participatory and engaged.

Final moments arrived - but shortly afterwards, Toki impossibly started crying. It soon became bawling, then wailing; her embrace tightening around him and she gasped and shuddered and screamed in anguish as her bottled-up emotions exploded in a never-seen-before torrent of tears. He hushed her and stroked her hair, and in between shudders, she recounted all the events of her violation in spine-cringing detail, down to the angle, heat, and smell of her assailant's breath, his drool, his nails digging into her flesh, and how she never wanted to live through that again. For nearly an hour, they held each other tight on that four-post bed, still conjoined in the act of love it was meant to be, as she poured out her heart into a heart-squeezing narrative that he knew was the first step in healing.

It was a tragedy that, for a woman who revered the spoken word as though it were a coin to be kept in one's pocket, she had to spend so much of her verbal allowance to document and describe the atrocities that had been committed against her. It pained Kyon in every way; it tore at him and made his heart leak tears and sadness.

But they would heal. It would be a journey, but they had each other; and they would heal. Time heals all grief, but love grows in fertile soil; and so they would manage. They eventually slept that night, their final embrace of the evening nothing more than fingers; soaked in tears and love and sorrow but with promise for a rising dawn.

-:-

_Elsewhere - in the storage chambers of Central 46's underground compound_

Sheldon held in his hands the most profane object in existence. It glowed with a penetrating evil, a burning desire to own and dominate. He knew at that moment that by letting this monstrosity out of its prison, that he had irrevocably changed fate as he knew it.

He wanted to keep it for himself. Only the threat of Q had convinced him to hand it over. If he didn't, there was nothing Q wouldn't do to take it from him by force.

Sheldon quietly departed the underground security center. He would give it to Q - right after he figured out how to use the Hougyoku to make himself an escape plan.

* * *

_Extra credit if you caught the Tangled reference. I love that movie! I saw it with my kids and was laughing my ass off. **Reviews, please! **Next chapter: Day 2._


	44. Sex and Intrigue, Part II

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Translator's note:** A reminder that the honorific -kun is generally masculine. Also, a no-dachi is a cavalry katana; it is one of the longest swords in the traditional Japanese arsenal of weapons._

* * *

_"Must I play with her, Kanaino-san? She is never interested in tea parties. All she wants to do is play with trucks. It is so rather dreadful!"  
__~Kuchiki Hisako, protesting to her caretaker about a playdate with Kuchiki Hikaru in their early childhood years_

* * *

_"Oh look, here comes the freak. Looks like Kanchi brought home Girlboy today," Pancho said, rolling his eyes and tapping his brother's arm to get his attention._

_Tancho snorted. "All that hand-motion shit. What a dumbass. I bet you it's all from her translator. Paid to make it look like she's got something in that head of hers - his? Ah, who the fuck knows."_

_Kanchi looked at her triplet brothers with disgust, her mouth open aghast. Hikaru's expression was hidden behind her long auburn bangs, her head lowered to the ground and her eyes hidden from view._

_"Whatsamatter, Kanchi-rin?" Pancho teased. "We're just playing around. What the fuck does 'Karu-kun care?"_

_"Yeah," Tancho laughed, "What the dumb shit doesn't know won't hurt her, right?"_

_"You **assholes**," Kanchi uttered, completely flabbergasted with her brothers' appalling behavior. "She speaks sign language because she's mute, not deaf. She can hear everything you say, **you assholes!**"_

_~An incident (among many) about the life and isolation of Kuchiki Hikaru in her younger years_

* * *

_"Tell me, Kurosaki-kun, since you're both a boy and girl, why don't you just go over to the corner and fuck yourself?"  
__~classmate, taunting Kuchiki (Kurosaki) Hikaru in Shinou Academy_

* * *

_"Hey, Bright-Eyes! Tell me, do you have a no-dachi because you're compensating for your small dick? Oh, wait a minute - I forgot, you're a giiiirrrrl! You know, it's always so hard to tell."  
__~unseated male officer in the 13th division, taunting Hikaru some point after she moved into the barracks_

* * *

_"It is so tempting to marry into the Kuchiki House, Hikaru-san. There is a lot to be gained by moving up in life, you see. Unfortunately, you're never going to get married. To start, no one would ever know whether you need a bride or a groom."  
__~Middle Court noble at the first-day reception in the Session for Aristocracy, explaining (to her face) why he had refused to make an offer for Hikaru's hand in marriage;  
during Hikaru's late adolescence_

* * *

_"Would you care for some tea? Oh, I'm sorry, we only serve real nobles here."_  
_~Bartender at a noble wedding, refusing Kuchiki Hikaru; in her early adult years roughly 170+ years from now_

* * *

_The next morning_

Rantao woke up - alone, and with a headache like you wouldn't imagine. The sun's morning rays had filtered through the hotel windows, and they were worse than searing spears through her forehead. She groaned. And here I was so quick to dismiss the idea of having all day to get over a hangover. "Shun-kun?"

She didn't hear him. "Shun-kun?" she called out again. "Shunsui?"

Kiku heard a moaned "Mmmm?" from the servant's quarters. She got up to go inspect, and found Shunsui sleeping in the servant's bed, sheets pulled up over most of his face. Well I'll be damned, she thought. After making a pit stop in the bathroom, Kiku crawled into bed with him and peacefully cuddled. Perhaps a lazy morning wasn't the worst thing in the world.

-:-

Yoshino gave Shiki a high five. "That was fun!" she said cheerily, panting and out of breath as the two women sat down on a bench in the dojo hall to collect themselves.

"Better than staring at the crowd all day, don't you think?"

"Absolutely!" Yoshino whistled. "Sometimes I wish Nee-san would do the hobnobbing. It's boring as hell. I barely even know anyone here, anyway."

Shiki patted Yoshino on the back. "How about this: lunch first, then we go at it again?"

"I'll meet you in the dining hall in an hour. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a plan," Shiki agreed.

-:-

"Unohana-sensei, how was it last night? Was everything okay?" Rukia asked, calling to check in.

"Everything is splendid!" Unohana reported. "Kitsune loves making her smile - he's enjoying having someone around to benefit from his infectious laughter and silly faces."

"He's not being too rough, is he?"

"No, no, not at all!" Unohana answered cheerily. "Actually," she said in a low voice, "Saijin-kun is joking we should have another, considering how easy he's been since she got here."

Rukia smiled. "For real?"

"...I think one Kitsune is all we can handle for the moment," Unohana confessed.

That made Rukia laugh. "Okay, call me if there's any sort of problem, okay?"

"Don't worry, there won't be any problems. But if there is, I promise I'll let you know."

"Thanks," Rukia exhaled with peace of mind, and then said her goodbyes and hung up the phone.

-:-

Rantao had never been more hungry in her entire life. She felt like she could eat the entire buffet table. Her plate was stacked high with all of the food she had missed so much since she had come back to Soul Society. It was a heaping mound of silver-dollar pancakes, bacon, eggs, sausage, hash-browns with melted cheddar, biscuits with butter, corn bread with sweet cream, toast with apricot jam, and the largest cup of coffee that could be had anywhere. She looked like she was about to eat Shunsui under the table, who had a small plate of some noble concoction that Kiku didn't recognize (and didn't want to know anything about).

"Are you really going to eat all that?"

"Don't know, don't care, just gotta get some food in my system," she said, a slight Quebec-like accent getting mixed into her Japanese.

"You were pretty tipsy last night," he chuckled.

Kiku turned a beet red as she began assembling her biscuit, bacon, eggs, sausage, and potatoes into a four-thousand calorie breakfast sandwich. "It's... unlike me," she admitted. "But that was an amazing wine."

"Sure was," Kyouraku agreed. Any wine that gets you all hot and bothered like that is definitely amazing. "Do you, uh, remember anything that happened?"

Kiku paused mid-bite, gargantuan sandwich still in her teeth. She then finished through the motions, waited until she had chewed and swallowed, dabbed her mouth with a napkin, and finally waited until her knees stopped knocking. "Um, uh... bits and pieces."

Aw crap. And here I was hoping to get some credit for not being a jerk. "...Like what?"

She fingered the pendant around her neck. "Like what you said before you gave this to me," she said, savoring the memory.

Okay, that's good, that's good, Shunsui reasoned. That's a good start. "Anything else?"

Kiku was quiet for a moment or two while she caught up on eating, using it as an excuse to hesitate. She eventually swallowed down a very unladylike portion of pancake with some coffee before answering. "I remember how I got into bed."

Okay - that's good too. Doing alright here. "Do you remember how you, uh - "

"Wanted to make love to you like a rabid wombat?" Kiku asked. "Nope. Sorry, don't remember that at all," she said with a wink.

He chuckled. Hard-to-get it is, then.

-:-

Kyon woke up, feeling like he had just passed through an entire lifetime of experiences. Toki was sitting in a chair next to the bed, evidently waiting for him to wake up. She was naked and smelled freshly showered, like chamomile. Her mismatched skin tones glistened with a moist sheen of condensation. "Hi - good morning," Kyon opened, happy to see her.

She didn't say anything. Instead, she pulled off the sheets and mounted him. He didn't protest.

-:-

_Later_

"Kyon?"

"Yes?"

"Sex is fun."

He laughed. "I love you, too."

-:-

"Hey, Hitori-san!" Kuukaku greeted her majordomo as she came out of the bedroom. It was late morning, and she was dressed in her old, red Shiba outfit. She rarely wore it anymore; seeing as how she was nearly always in shinigami uniform - but the Session for Aristocracy was a rare occasion when, as a Head of House, she chose to assert her noble independence. As usual, she gave Hitori a good slap on the arm. "Get lucky last night?"

"No, Kuukaku-sama," he sighed while shaking his head, admittedly amused by her directness.

"What are you waiting for?"

Hitori hemmed and hawed. "She is... a prize hard won, it seems, Kuukaku-sama."

"What, she's not into you? Sorry to hear that."

"No, no; er, well, I don't know - it's just... competition, perhaps. The Kuzaku Family's majordomo is... hard to get away from, Kuukaku-sama."

Kuukaku frowned. "SATARA-CHAN!"

Dread came over Hitori's eyes. "Wait, Kuukaku-sama, I -"

Satara bolted into the room at attention, bowed hastily, spouting apologies. "My apologies, Lady Kuukaku-sama, I was just - "

"Shah," Kuukaku dismissed. "Don't care. You're on vacation as far as I'm concerned."

Satara bowed again. "Thank you, Lady Kuukaku-sama, I - "

"What with this 'Lady' business, Satara-chan? 'Kuukaku' is fine. Look, you two know you have to sit through the reporting session today, right?"

"Of course, Kuukaku-sama," Hitori nodded.

"Satara-chan, the whole thing is likley going to be over your head. That's fine. Don't stress out if you miss anything; Hitori-kun knows what to do. You just sit next to him and keep him company, he'll walk you through everything. Then take the night off and the two of you go to dinner and compare notes. Hitori-kun can fill you in on what you missed. If anyone tries to bother you, they're probably being nosy and trying to steal a glance at your notes. Tell them you're discussing private House matters and that they should scram - or otherwise you're going to call me to come beat their ass with a stick. Got it?"

"Yes, Kuukaku-sama! Of course, Kuukaku-sama," she answered eagerly, trying to please her master with her readiness to comply.

"Now come with me," Kuukaku ordered. "You can't be my official House representation going like just some random girl in some generic yukata. You're supposed to be a majordomo. Come, let me get you into something _classy_," she said, starting to push Satara down the hall and giving Hitori a big fat wink over her shoulder.

Satara's eyes bugged wide. "_H-h-hai_, Kuukaku-sama! Coming, Kuukaku-sama!"

Before Kuukaku escorted Satara to her quarters, she thumped Hitori on the shoulder. "Don't screw up," she whispered teasingly in his ear.

"_Hai,_ Kuukaku-sama," Hitori chuckled with the shake of his head as the women went off into the back rooms. He turned around to find Byakuya-sama standing there, his eyes closed and in a sighing state. Hitori bowed.

"I see my wife is playing matchmaker again," he muttered to his head of staff. "It is one of her more peculiar forms of entertainment."

Hitori bowed again. "It would be inappropriate and unwise for me to comment, Byakuya-sama."

"I have an assignment for you," Byakuya continued.

"Yes, Byakuya-sama?"

"You know very well that Kuzaku-san is a fiend, as is his majordomo. I hereby order you to protect Satara-chan from him at all costs. Especially at night, while she is sleeping and may be feeling the effects of loneliness. You will not let such vulnerabilities afflict her, of course, as I cannot afford espionage from a renegade retainer. It is imperative that you therefore do what is necessary to make sure that she is properly entertained for the evening, and then guarded within arm's breadth until morning. I trust that you are capable of enduring this onerous, cumbersome, and tedious assignment?"

Hitori held his face to compliancy. Byakuya-sama had _definitely_ picked up some amusing influences from his wife. "I will do my best to see to it that your concerns are alleviated, Byakuya-sama," he smiled while bowing again.

-:-

_Later that evening_

Sheldon had spent all day trying to figure out how to work the damn thing, but he couldn't get it to jumpstart. The Hougyoku kept desiring to be used, but he couldn't figure it out. Maybe he had smoked one too many joints or snorted just a bit too much cocaine, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out how to get the little ball of evil to actually _do_ anything for him.

He didn't know how long it would be until Q would come out of his lab hideout in the Central 46 compound. Q did not take Hinamori's escape very well. He was very, very upset; and seemed to be digging through all of his research to figure out if he had screwed something up. For the life of him, Q couldn't figure out how she had survived.

In the meanwhile, Sheldon was relieved. As long as Q was lost in research, Sheldon had a chance to escape. He was running out of time, though - pretty soon, he was sure Q would come and ask him about whether or not he had retrieved the ball of consciousness; and Sheldon wouldn't even have to answer the question. Q would just detect its reishi and take it from him; likely killing Sheldon for not telling him about it sooner.

In the end, Sheldon had two options: he could deliver the Hougyoku and hope that Q saw this as an act of good will and spare him, or he could escape; then call Q and tell him where he could pick up the Hougyoku after Sheldon was far, far away. That was what he decided to do.

First, he would need an escort. He needed to get out of Soul Society, and that meant traveling through the Dangai Precipice World. Seeing as how Sheldon was only a phased human, he needed a shinigami traitor to get out. Finding one who could be trusted was not easy - Nakatsu had been reliable, but he had surprisingly been defeated. He would need someone else.

Or... he could risk it himself. He could take the small dagger that Smith had given him ten years ago, a simple sealed zanpakutou that was good enough for opening senkai gates and killing hollows (not that Sheldon was in any kind of shape to do that anymore). It was very risky - going through the Dangai without a sanctioned Hell Butterfly for passage was like inviting yourself to death. Sheldon had no means of specifying coordinates, so he could end up anywhere, or even any_when_. Assuming that the Cleaner didn't get to him fih-rst.

On the other hand, he could stick around and wait until Q got a hold of the Hougyoku, decided that Sheldon was a good test subject, and then put him on the laboratory table now that his job had been finished. The Cleaner seemed much more appealing when Sheldon thought about Q's laboratory table by comparison.

Deciding that facing Q was a fate far, _far_ worse than death, Sheldon went into the closet and grabbed the small dagger. He set the Hougyoku down on the table, wrote a message down with it, and set a timer for a page to be sent to Q after 24 hours in order to instruct him to come and get it. Then Sheldon cut a whole into the fabric of time, and ran like a bat out of hell - or more accurately, a fat man out of hell-soon-to-come - into the Dangai's purplish, bubbling void.

-:-

Kyon set the table in their room, and then he and Toki prepared the table for a nice dinner. This had been a dream. Toki had spent all day experiencing new sensations; and as opposed to her general inclination to shun and lock out new input, she instead desired to absorb every possible detail. She wanted to experience everything there was to experience; understand every intimate possibility; systematically learn what things felt like, why they felt like they did, what produced reaction X and what produced reaction Y... It was as if her entire mind had mathematically applied itself to understand this new world of intimacy the same way she had plunged into the field of medicine. He never would have expected her to throw nearly all of her touch-me-not behavior into the wind.

For instance, right now, she was sitting in his lap. They were fully clothed now, and eating - but she could not resist squirming in a highly sensuous way; trying to evoke different reactions. From time to time, she would stop him from putting a forkful of food in his mouth, and instead insist on him nibbling on her finger; slowly rubbing it along the ridge of his teeth in a tantalizing motion that he found irresistably erotic. On the one hand, he was exhausted - but her scent and touch and very-_not_-innocent squirming were _very_ invigorating.

Kyon was having the best day of his life - and he knew that she was, too.

-:-

Shunsui put his arm around Rantao on the couch. They had just settled down to watch a movie - Rantao had even found some popcorn - and he had settled into pajamas already; a simple white cloth robe and hakama tied at the waist. She was wearing a 1950s-style housecoat made out of a velveteen material. To be honest, it was highly unflattering.

Perhaps that was intentional, he thought. On the other hand, she has her quirks, I suppose.

The cuddling that occurred during their video-watching was uneventful but affectionate. The two shinigami wisely decided that tonight, they would stop at a single glass of wine, no matter how good it was. They sat on the couch, Rantao's feet up in Shunsui's lap, and enjoyed a quiet concerto that Rantao had put on after the movie.

Rantao frowned. "Why didn't you - you know, last night?"

Shunsui's eyebrows scrunched. Not an easy question to answer correctly. "Why?"

"...You could have had what you wanted," she mumbled, embarassed to phrase it like that.

"That's not what I want."

"No, you want a redhead, a brunette, and a blonde," she teased. Although it was lighthearted, it still stung.

"The one brunette I have with me right now is far better," he answered, trying to lamely recover. It was a shoddy attempt and fell flat, but it was better than nothing. He hoped.

After a moment, she glanced at him with an odd expression as she twirled the wineglass between her fingers. "What if I told you I wasn't entirely a brunette?" she asked casually, gauging his reaction.

Shunsui looked surprised as he twirled his own glass of red wine. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Rantao got up from the couch, but then bent over and gave him a kiss worth remembering. When she pulled away, he could see straight down her neckline - and he was positive that she knew he was getting a nice view. "Keep up your good behavior, and maybe you'll find out," she answered suggestively. "Good night, Shunsui. I'll see you in the morning."

The front of Shunsui's pants nearly split open as he watched her saunter into the servant's quarters, give him a sultry smile, and then close the door. _Damn,_ he thought. There is no woman I have ever met that could make a housecoat look that sexy.

-:-

_Elsewhere, in the 4th Division Central Infirmary_

Momo's eyes fluttered open against the inorganic light from the pulse monitor, reminding her that she had come to the hospital. Sitting up, she looked around. She was cold and damp, and uncomfortable from being situated over a bedpan. Agitated by waking up in the sterile, quiet loneliness of the ICU, she got up from the bed feeling stiff and sore; her muscles like ropes of rusted iron cables that creaked and groaned as she tried to loosen them with a stretch. Mindlessly scratching her back and realizing that she was wearing nothing but a hospital gown, she cursed her luck and entered the bathroom; using her zanpakutou as a blind man's staff to help navigate through the foggy darkness; her eyes still trying to adjust to the dark.

When she switched it on, the bathroom light jarred her eyes with a discomforting pain, and she had the odd sensation that her eyes were mismatched in their ability to absorb the light. When the pain stopped in her shrinking pupils, she looked to the gaunt and ghastly visage that presented itself in the mirror. Once upon a time, it was the sunny face of an attractive young girl with hope; now it was the scarred bald head of a tortured miscreant with nothing, not even a future. She snarled at her own misfortune; the harsh upturn of her lips a feral reminder of the beast within that could implement the horrors that played upon her face. Momo ironically congratulated herself on besting Banzo Ichihime's hideousness, her face now bearing the scars of Fate's Demon.

Clutching her sword's sheath below the hilt until her knuckles flared with a nearly rheumatic stiffness, she slammed the toilet seat down (who the hell left it up?) and sat down to take a piss. The sensation of passing urine made her feel dirty and undignified, as though it was a summation of her life experience. Pissed on, then flushed down the crapper. She went to finish her hygenic matters but came to discover that the room had no toilet paper left, nor any tampons. Feeling even more sullied, shamed and disgraced, she unsheathed a few inches of her Savior and cut a square of cloth off of her hospital gown and used it as a substitute for paper.

Savoring her Savior's swift and smooth slicing of the cloth - and how it would promise to cut bone, brain and sinew just as easily - she restored the titanium-edged katana into the O-ring lock of her old scabbard, the one that used to belong to the now expired Tobiume and the vanquished Kyouka Suigetsu. She did not yet know her new zanpakutou's name, but she loved it; she could feel comfort in its murky blackness and inky shade of reiatsu. It was death; the shinigami's calling. It was death and the fate of death; it spoke of the whispers of death and the calling of death - to inflict it. She was a shinigami, a death god, a grim reaper. As she washed her hands, lathering them with soap and studying her grotesque face again, Hinamori Momo knew that she was Death. She was a living corpse, living only for the sake of terminating breath.

Twisting the faucet off and shaking the remaining moisture from her fingers, she decided that the first thing to die would be the mockery before her. Without second thought, she truncheoned the silver-backed glass with her Savior's hilt. The spiderwebbing shatter reverberated in a tinkle, but lacked the violent crunch she was hoping for. Unsatiated but lacking further motivation to discharge her appetite for destruction on an already-demolished inanimate object, she instead left the bathroom and sat in a bedside chair.

With an impatience born from a natural impulsivity combined with an irritation of feeling abandoned to the quiet, she pressed the call button. In a short amount of time that was still too lengthy for Hinamori's mercurial disposition, a female nurse from the 4th poked her head in. "Oh! You're awake! How can I help you, Hinamori-san?"

"I'm hungry," she said dispassionately. "I want food. And real clothing."

The woman was happy to help her, but Momo found her cheery presence grating; wishing that the nurse would take her sunshine somewhere else (preferably up her own ass). A few minutes later, the nurse returned with a bottle of juice, a muffin and a yukata, and explained that she would return with a hot meal as soon as it was ready. Hinamori dressed with a resentment for the selection; for she lacked proper undergarments and felt that the yukata was no better than a glorified hospital gown. She would have strongly preferred the studded leather gloves, Doc Martins, and slick-tight jeans that she had worn when meeting Morgan.

_Morgan._

Momo thought of him with a lust for his company that she could not truly understand or explain. Maybe it was because he knew her from how she is now; rather than how most here knew who she was once upon a time. Perhaps it was his willingness to respect her aggression; to take her seriously. She liked the way he saw her as a god rather than just another soul from somewhere else.

Godhood was overrated, Momo reflected, consuming the muffin with no interest in its taste. It was little better than sawdust to her; for her stomach mereley wanted to be filled with nourishment. Taste was just another sensation of a body she no longer felt attached to. It was nothing more than a bloody pulp of body parts sewn together; topped with a stubbled skinhead scalp.

The nurse returned with a hot meal of miso soup, warm and fluffy bread, tea, and scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon and onion. It was considerably tastier than the muffin, and Momo's attention turned entirely to the needs of her physical wellbeing. She lost herself in eating, although in truth there was nothing left to lose.

-:-

_Back in Oligarch Hall_

Yoshino knocked on the door to Muertara's room with a restrained temper. "Neesan?"

"What is it _now,_ Yo-chan? Just go to sleep."

"Well, I would, but it would be far less irksome if _YOU AND YOUR BOYFRIEND SHUT UP IN THERE!"_ she screamed at the top of her lungs.

After a minute in which Yoshino could hear her sister stumbling over things, Muertara stormed out the door in a red silken bathrobe. Her wet blackish hair was dripping all over it, and she shut the door discretely behind her. "Keep your voice down!"

_"WHY, SO THE WHOLE WORLD CAN'T HEAR ABOUT YOU BOUNCING AROUND IN BED LIKE CAGED WOLVERINES?"_ Yoshino shouted right into her face, just to be defiant. If no one heard her the first time, they sure did now.

"Goddamnit, Yo-chan, _quiet down!_"

"Kami, you're telling me?" Yoshino rolled her eyes. "I'm going to shower and go to sleep. Keep it down."

Muertara suddenly realized that Yoshino was in shinigami uniform - and resolutely sweaty and disgusting. "What have you been doing?"

"Sparring," Yoshino said, exhausted. "Far less boring than being a walleye during the day and listening to you go humpa-humpa all night."

"With who?"

"What do you care?" Yoshino muttered back.

"You spent all day _sparring?_ Was it with a boy?"

"You spent all day _fucking?_ Was it with a boy?"

Muertara slapped her younger sister across the face. "Don't you talk to me like _that._"

Yoshino slugged her older sister in the chin, sending Muertara reeling to the floor in utter shock. "Don't you talk to me, _period,_" she asserted herself. "You listen to me, Neesan - I didn't come here because I _wanted_ to be here, I'm here because you _made_ me come! And it sucks! You won't let me watch TV, get a drink at the bar, hang out in the sun by the pool - no, I have to spend all day getting slobbered on by drunken lolicon-loving pedo-assholes so you can pretend to have your precious eye on things! I've had it. You wanted me to play eyes and ears, then I'm going to use my mouth, heart and mind, too: you let me have a say tomorrow in the legislative session, or I'm going have you remanded as Head of Family for premarital affairs!"

"You _wouldn't,_" Muertara gasped. "That's blackmail!"

"That's what I call giving a shit about your sister," Yoshino said. "Now the two of you go back to your shenanigans and keep it quiet. I'm showering and going to bed."

-:-

Ryogi Shiki smiled from the other side of the door to the Hikifune hotel room. _Perfect._ That couldn't have gone any better than if she had written out cue cards.

In a flash step, Shiki disappeared from the hallway. Mission accomplished. Banzo Ichihime had predicted everything: put Yoshino on the brink of exhaustion, and her tolerance for her older sister's control would break. Yoshino would become assertive, and thus Muertara would have a situation on her hands. Banzo Taicho had not necessarily anticipated this precise outcome - the simple idea was to have Muertara compromised by Yoshino in some way. This, however, was solid gold. Yoshino would be far more sympathetic to the Gotei 13 than Muertara would; and Yoshino was young and idealistic. She was too smart to be gullible, but she was not old enough to be afraid of change. Shiki was going to have to report everything.

She shook her hand and smiled in disbelief. Banzo Taicho was far more clever than anyone had likely realized - and that was to their advantage.

-:-

Kuzaku Mikoto was very unhappy. "You failed."

His majordomo, Hunji, bowed. "I am sorry, Master; but she was on official Shiba/Kuchiki business all evening with Hitori-majordomo. I was unable to even get close to her."

"You realize that without access to inside information, I have nothing?"

"Yes, Master."

"You realize that at this point, I am completely lacking leverage, correct?"

"Yes, Master."

Mikoto sighed. "You also realize, of course, that there is nothing short of a scandal, by which I can accuse the Four Houses of foul play, that will provide me any opportunity in tomorrow's legislative agenda? Do you truly fathom this, Hunji-san?"

"Of course, Master."

With a swift slice, Mikoto's zanpakutou left its sheath and beheaded his majordomo. "No, Hunji-kun, I don't think you truly do. Because you see, now someone killed my majordomo in a clear act of war. _Now_ I have a scandal."

-:-

_The next morning_

Rukia breathed a sigh of relief as Karin and Ichigo flashed into the foyer of Oligarch Hall. "Glad you made it," she said, kissing and hugging her husband and younger sister.

"I hope we're not late," Ichigo said.

"No, no - they're just about to start. I'll have Satara-chan get you something to eat. C'mon, hurry - they have a booth in the assembly hall for you and Karin. I've had Hitori-san write up a summary of what will be happening. The important thing is not to intervene."

"I know, I know," Ichigo protested. "Don't say anything unless it's to vote. Everything else is far too complicated to follow."

The three shinigami flashed off to the hall, and Ichigo was surprisingly overwhelmed. The enormous assembly hall contained the scribe's desk in the center pit of the room, where the law was written, sealed, and established by the scribe appointed by Central 46. From the middle all the way through to the back of the room was where the army of Lower Court members would sit in first-come-first-serve basis, each with one point of voting power per family. With sixty families, the entire Lower Court made up sixty points total under normal voting rights. The Ukitake family was the sixty-first vote, on account of receiving a bonus point for having a captain in the Gotei 13.

The Middle Court's seats were arranged along the balconies. Each family had assigned seating, although there were no gaps between the seats. The Middle Court had fewer families than the Lower Court - only thirty-four - but with two points each, they tallied sixty-eight base points, which made them the largest single block of votes. The Yamamoto family was among the Middle Court and held the only four-point vote in the Middle Court; since two bonus points were granted to a family with general rank in the shinigami military. Hence, it was a total of seventy points to be earned among the balconies; and they were the most hotly contested and influential votes.

The Upper Court sat in front of the stage in a semi-circular fashion that faced the scribe and the rows of Lower Court members. The Upper Court had seating that was sectioned off into groups, which allowed for more privacy between them. This was where Ichigo and Karin would be sitting, and a small group of cordoned off seats were marked with a Kurosaki banner. Ichigo was the official Head of Family and had a four-point vote - three for being an Upper Court noble (an offshoot of the Shiba Royal Bloodline) and one extra point for being a captain, even though his division was not part of the Gotei 13 proper. There were nine Upper Court families (Hikifune, Kyouraku, Fon, Omaeda, Urahara, Kurosaki, Sasakibe, Nikayui and Kuzaku), for a base twenty-seven points - but Kyouraku, Urahara, and Kurosaki were families of captains, so there was a total of thirty points to be had in the Upper Court; assuming normal voting conditions. It was a recent development - Soifon's captainship had given the Fon family the thirty-first vote, but her death had diminished the family's influence. That made them rather unhappy.

Rukia would be on the elevated stage behind them with Byakuya, where the attention of most of the assembly hall was focused. Each clan in the Four Houses had a base four points, although now, all Houses had captains in the Gotei 13; and so they all had a fifth bonus point. Before his death, Banzo Tanabi had the only six-point vote in the entire Session, on account of being a Major General of the Kido Corps, but his sixth point was now gone. That made for twenty influential points, although sheer lack of numbers meant that the results were more heavily influenced by the other courts.

Thus the Middle Court was often the final arbiter of any given legislation. With only fifty points currently between the Four Houses and Upper Court, a unified Middle Court still exceeded them by twenty points - and the Lower Court almost always followed the Middle Court, seeing as how the overwhelming majority were retainers and feared retaliation from their masters if they dared not fall in line.

The math was complicated - but that wasn't on Ichigo's mind. He had never seen anything like the hustle and bustle that was going on in the assembly hall while people waited for the legislative session to begin. Servant staff was running all over the place, couriering messages and drafts of bills back and forth, trying to influence last minute decisions.

"Thanks for coming, Ichigo," Rukia said, helping Ichigo get settled in location.

"As if I had a choice?" he shrugged. "If we weren't here, I think the Soutaicho would bankai my ass."

Rukia frowned and turned to Karin. "Remind him not to open his mouth."

"Don't worry, Ruki-nee, we've got everything under control," she said, patting her brother on the head like a dog.

"How's Hikaru-chan doing?" Ichigo asked. "Did you check in?"

"Several times. Unohana Sensei says she's doing wonderfully and not to worry, and that she poops like a paintball gun."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Karin asked.

"Explosive, messy, and semi-automatic."

"Charming," Ichigo replied wryly. Her and Rukia exchanged a few loving glances before she left, but nothing more. This was not the place for public affection.

"Remember, Ichi-nii," Karin warned as Rukia went up on stage to sit with Byakuya. "Ruki-nee said there's going to be a lot of nonsensical soap opera garbage and a ton of trashtalking. Just keep your cool."

"Yeah, yeah, everyone hates everyone, I get it."

Karin sighed. "You never learn, do you?"

"Huh? What's that for?"

"Promise me you won't threaten to withdraw your zanpakutou and cut someone down."

"C'mon Karin, are you kidding me? What do yo think I am, some kind of ill-tempered punk?"

"_Yes!_ Now promise me, you big lug!"

"Fine," he grumbled. "I promise." Ichigo looked around. "What are we waiting for, anyway?"

_"That,"_ Karin whispered as she pointed up on stage.

All eyes were forward and a silence fell on the room. There had been rumors - but they hadn't been confirmed; and this was the first time she was out in public.

"I see you all quiet down when I enter the room," Ichihime called out into the silence as she emerged from the stone-covered Banzo House booth on stage. "It's to be expected, given my station - I am glad to see you remember your subservience."

Her new haori was burning into the retinae of nearly every single noble in the room. The whispers throughout the room radiated the same general sentiment - no longer Kuchiki Byakuya's lieutenant, Banzo Ichihime was a free woman. She didn't have to answer to anyone. She could dominate the Session with an iron fist, just as her father had before her.

And Ichihime knew it. "Enough waiting," she said dismissively into the pin-drop quiet. _"I call the first point of order!"_

* * *

_Next chapter: The irons are in the fire - things heat up, as the legislative smackdown is finally here! **Please leave a review - always nice to know you're still reading. ;)**_


	45. Doublecrossed Betrayal

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. iPod is a registered trademark of Apple.

_**Author's note:** It is necessary to state that some aspects of this chapter are intended as a tribute to the great genius of J.K. Rowling._

* * *

_"...Envy is a cruel master."  
__~Kuchiki Rukia, to her daughter Hikaru; regarding Hikaru's cousin, Kuchiki Hisako_

* * *

Ichigo was really, really glad that he had been told to sit down and shut up. He was a smart guy, aced through med school and all that - but the next sentence that came out of the blond woman's mouth sounded like a cross between gibberish and babble.

"I hereby propose," Ichihime continued, "that we raise the federal backport interest rate by .2 basis points, and offset the adjunct cash flows by lowering the dividend tax on tea arbitrage and rice investments, in order to prevent inflation and address the sagging consumer confidence index."

"That is rash," Byakuya interrupted. "Surely you know better than to tamper with the backbone of the economy so quickly."

"Silence, Prince of Pride," Ichihime barked back. "Are you challenging my command of finances? Last I stood, I was the richest woman in Sereitei!"

"Because you are a brat who stands alone," Kuukaku dismissed. "The rest of us have families and constituents to support."

"You hold your tongue, Shiba-kun," Yoruichi barked at Kuukaku. "I will not stand an outcast in noble's clothing dismissing my family's best and brightest! My niece has far better command of how to run a House than you do!"

"Enough of your petty nonsense," Ichihime dismissed, not sinking into the shouting match. "I refuse to let you theoretically-intellectual members of society debate my legislation on anything but the command of economics - so unless you can challenge the merits of my proposal, then silence is worth far more than rambling insults from a financial ignoramus. Call to court - Upper Court, debate!"

"Confirm," Urahara shrugged.

"Confirm denied," Nikayui Tesho sighed. "I am sorry, Urahara-dono, but I will invoke denial on family involvement. I cannot endure the tax implications."

"Oh please," Kuukaku said, rolling her eyes. "Your denial is foolishness; you are even more involved by familial connection."

"Grounds for striking from the record," Kuzaku suggested.

"Shut your mouth, Mikoto-kun!" Ichihime snapped. "I won't have you stifling my suggestions because you stand to lose ten wan a year! Cast to..."

-:-

Ichigo attempted to follow the complex matters of debate, but he was completely lost. For the past thirty minutes, the discussion revolved around things he could barely understand - basis point impact to pre-tax dividends of common stock versus shareholder stock in sharecropper arbitrage houses - it was a jumble of jargon that he couldn't follow if his life depended on it.

"I suggest you shove your foot in your mouth, Tenzo-san," Ichihime shouted down a Middle Court member while Ichigo tried to understand what the hell was flying. "Your command of investments is disgracefully poor - to believe that an immediate due three-percent annual return would exceed a daily-compounded three-percent interest on your sharecropping returns; such absurd thinking of a mind incapable of earnest arithmetic - if your math barely exceeds post-elementary geometry, perhaps I should propose an amendment to limit control of the banking system to a mere thirty-five percent market share!"

Shouts of approval echoed throughout the hall. The representative from the Kasumi-Ouji family was first to be heard clearly: "I amend!"

"Confirm!" Hogane added.

"You backstabber!" Tenzo shouted back.

"Business is business, Tenzo-san, and I refuse to pass on a lucrative market!" Hogane retorted.

"Confirm," Hikifune Muertara added, clearly disinterested but threw a bone out to her sister's prodding.

"Confirm," Byakuya added. "An amendment on banking restrictions will sink the bill."

"You're playing with fire, you disingenuous fool," Yoruichi muttered.

Ichigo kept trying to understand what the hell was going on when Karin caught his attention. "She's smart," she said quietly, gesturing to the Banzo princess on stage.

"Huh?" Ichigo asked, derp face in full force. "What do you mean?"

"It's a great tactic," Karin explained. "Walk into the arena with the crowd expecting a young, inexperienced featherweight. So she throws down the nastiest, most technocratic piece of legislation that can be described in two sentences or less. Then she proceeds to destroy everyone with it - using it as a leverage point to choke out weaknesses and force divisiveness in the crowd."

It clicked in Ichigo's head. "Establishing credibility as an independent."

"Exactly," Karin confirmed. "At the same time, she does her best to show people that she understands the complexity far better than they do. It's intimidating and makes it hard for others to shove her around."

As if to prove her point, Ichihime was back to shouting a middle court noble down. "Shove your nonsense up someone else's nose, Garaku-kun! I don't care how much your debts are worth; you earned them by investing all of your cash flow in a singular risk. I hardly think we should trust your definition of 'broad investment strategy' when you can barely realize how to manage your own portfolio!"

-:-

Rantao was taking furious notes. One thing she did _not_ need to jot down, however, was how ferocious the new captain was. Banzo Ichihime had always struck her as a hardnosed woman, but she was a cutthroat politician; a master craftsman. She could whip members of the session into submission with finesse, misdirection, threat, or any combination of the three. Rantao had yet to see a woman nearly as shrewd, and it was hard to believe that they had been debating a single two-sentence tax bill for nearly forty-five minutes, now with five amendments and counting.

Her notes were interrupted when a text message came into her smartphone. Grimacing, she flashed it to Shunsui, who was sitting between her and Jun-Jidano. Shunsui nodded, and Rantao flashed off.

Murder in 404.

-:-

"Enough bickering," Yoruichi yelled. "Establish the vote!"

Ichigo looked to Karin. "Crap - what the hell do we do?"

"Abstain, you idiot," she muttered. "Do you really have any idea what you're voting for?"

"No."

"Exactly," Karin sighed. "Neither does anyone else in the room. But they can't admit that."

-:-

"Call to order!" Kuzaku Mikoto called, as soon as the vote finished. "I propose budget cuts to the Gotei 13!"

"Denied on security grounds," Byakuya called. "You are not a member of the military."

"I support it," Muertara piped up, much to the ire of the many present captains. "I invoke oversight privileges!"

"Neesan-!" Yoshino tried to intervene, but Muertara shushed her.

"Confirm," Naga Toretino (the elder) added.

"Confirm," Hogane chirped.

"Ridiculous," Sasakibe Jego intervened. "It makes no sense to discuss the legislation until you explain what your intended cuts are."

"Confirm point of order on authorial intent," Kinfon shouted.

"Accepted," Jego noted.

"Confirm," Kyouraku Jun-Jidano piped up. He had been letting Shunsui play head for a while, but now his interest was piqued. "Let's see what he proposes."

"This better be good, Kuzaku," Kuukaku muttered aloud. "Otherwise I'm coming after your water supply next."

"Simple," he said. "I think the cuts are obvious - the Gotei 13 is a complete and total lie."

"You are on dangerous ground," Yamamoto Riordo shouted up at him. He was a younger cousin of the Soutaicho and the official Family Representative. "I hardly think Yamamoto-sama would agree with you!"

"Nonsense," Kuzaku shrugged. "I am merely saying that the Gotei 13 should acknowledge the truth: we are paying for _fourteen_ divisions!"

At that, huge calls of approval came from nearly everywhere in the balconies. The Middle Court's sentiment was clear, and Kuzaku took to the attention. "It is preposterous that our military needs a Shinigami Representative Division! With a current membership of only five humans - excuse me, _four_ humans and a _Quincy_, of all things! - is an absurdity that we should be saddled with supporting such needless, frivoulous overhead! Why should we pay for a captain and vice captain that command fewer members than the average unseated patrol officer? It is excess waste, and an attempt for the Gotei 13 to grow its influence beyond its approved scope of authority!"

Ichigo and Karin suddenly felt all eyes zoom in on their box with an unfriendly aura of hostility. Rukia was the first to defend them: "This very body voted for its creation!"

"Who cares?" Jego shrugged. "We can vote to abolish it just as easily. Makes sense to me."

Muertara was insistent. "I confirm!"

"I propose an amendment for clarification - abolition of the division means that his captain's bonus vote be stripped!" Kinfon added. As far she cared, if the Fons were going to lose their bonus point, so would everyone else.

"Aye!" Sasakibe Jego confirmed quickly, as did nearly thirty other members of the Middle Court at once.

Karin put her hand on Ichigo's shoulder. _"Keep your cool," _she cautioned under her breath.

Ichigo was trying very hard to keep quiet. He didn't like where this was going, but he was positive that this noble idiot was trying to make him crack in front of the assembly and embarrass himself, only proving the point that Ichigo didn't belong here.

Urahara protested, disappointed. "It's no way to treat the Hero of the Winter War."

Omaeda shrugged. "We only made him a captain in response to public pressure," Marechiyo thought out loud. He wasn't being spiteful, just stupid. "He didn't _ask_ to be one."

Muertara was pushing this. "Omaeda-dono is absolutely correct - public pressure to give Kurosaki a captaincy was so intense that you all would have had rioting in the streets had we not done anything. Don't you all remember? Remember the debate we had about not letting him take Aizen's division? We barely managed to come to a compromise, and it was just as much of a farce then as it is now! "

"Fine," Ichihime shrugged with an indifferent sigh. "So you made up some ludicrous sideshow gig to appease the masses, gave him a black haori so no one could tell he was even wearing one, and sent him to the happy crowds. Pat yourself on the back, you gave him his parade. Charade is over, time for everyone to go home. _That's_ what you're complaining about, Mikoto-kun? _Seriously?_ You really think chopping five salaries and a bunch of reports is going to save us money? What is that, like 23 wan a month? Your excrement's weight in fertilizer is probably worth more than that. What a little way to make yourself look big - fine, you pathetic penny-pincher Kuzaku, I'll throw you a bone so that at least you look more like an annoying Scottish terrier rather than an ass-faced hairless chihuahua. Call the vote. Aye."

"How could you!" Rukia shouted at Ichihime. "You will strip my husband's haori right off his back? Have you no decency?"

"Go back home, street rat," Ichihime dismissed. "No one here cares."

_"What the fucking hell did you just call her? !"_ Ichigo shouted up at Ichihime.

_"Ichi-nii!"_ Karin protested, yanking Ichigo back down into his seat.

"I said _street rat_, Human. You don't even belong here. You're what, twenty-six? In our world, you're still wetting the bed. Sit down and stay out of our business. You may be some great shinigami hero, and I respect your skill and admire your selflessness, but you can go run the government in the Living World. _Stay out of ours!"_

"You insult my pride," Byakuya threatened Ichihime.

"Your pride? Oh, you mean your so-called sister? The one you nearly killed had this orange-haired youngling not saved you from your epic misjudgement? Some love and pride you have in her. Spare me your moralistic bullshit."

"You _bitch_," Kuukaku shouted. "I'll have your head for this!"

"Well, I have your arm, so your track record is no threat," Ichihime snorted back. "Unless you have a sudden urge to lose the other."

Byakuya was seething. "You dare not-"

"-invoke my late father's right to put your harlot of a wife in her place?" Ichihime interrupted. "Try me, _Byakushi._ You don't think I learned all of your weaknesses when I was your vice captain? You are nothing but empty threats backed up by a big wallet - and my pockets are deeper. So sit down and stop pretending like you give a shit about some lowly human that thrashed you in a fight. You want to see him kicked out of the Gotei 13 just as much as Kuzaku-Prickhead does, so that you can forget all about how he insulted your _goddamned worthless pride!"_

Ichigo's mouth gaped. Did she just call him 'Byakushi' in front of the entire noble assembly? Damn, this girl has an elephantine set of testicles.

"Yamamoto-san!" Rukia pleaded, interrupting the hostilities before a war broke out on stage. "You hold veto power in this case - I implore you to use it!"

Riordo looked uneasy. He had wished Genryusai Shigekuni was here at the moment, but he was still in transit. "I... I do not know that is within the best interests of the Gotei 13, Kuchiki-sama. I truly hold great respect for your husband, and his contributions to our well-being are appreciated with the utmost honor, but... his division is made of humans. They will soon die out anyway. Its end will come eventually - perhaps it is better that he accept an early retirement. Wouldn't he rather concern himself with whatever it is that humans want out of their short time on Earth?"

"But it should be of his own choosin-"

Kuzaku Mikoto interrupted her, his eyes trained on Byakuya. "Vote was called - you are required to tally!"

"Aye," Byakuya voted. "But only to restore the Gotei 13 to its proper state."

Ichigo felt betrayed as Rukia shouted at her brother in disagreement, but to no avail. Did his brother-in-law really just vote to strip him of his rank? As though his service to the shinigami was worth nothing?

_"Nay!"_ Kuukaku said forcefully in her husband's face. "You can't do this! He is my nephew; the Shiba Clan will not take this lying down!"

Yoruichi hesitated, then sighed. She clearly wasn't happy with the need to make this vote, and considered abstaining - but chose to vote. "Aye. Let him die a human instead of a soldier. It's best he return to where he belongs."

The scribe in the center of the room called the tally. "Fifteen/five. Upper Court?"

Muerata, Fon, Omaeda, Sasakibe, and Kuzaku all voted for the measure, making it 30/5. Kyouraku made it 30/9, and Urahara abstained rather than contradict his wife.

Karin nudged Ichigo. "It's your vote. It might be your last."

"Nay," Ichigo said, resigned. He couldn't believe what was happening.

Nikayui Tesho also abstained, and at 30/13, there was no way to clear the Middle Court. There were a significant number of abstentions - nearly half - but no one voted down the measure, and when it went to the Lower Court, the tally was at 64/13. Ukitake Jushiro voted with Ichigo to make it 64/15, and more than two-thirds abstained - but the final tally was in. The scribe sealed it in kido, and then called out the results. "The Representative Division of the Gotei 13 has been abolished. Let it be of note that the Kurosaki family now wields only a three-point vote."

Karin looked to Ichigo. "You okay?"

He sighed. "No... but I have bigger issues to worry about."

Karin nodded. She had just been stripped of her vice captaincy, but it didn't matter. Ichigo was right. His daughter was a far more important issue.

-:-

"Ise Shosho!"

Nanao looked up from her desk to see Fuwu panting. It made him look three times as fat and ugly as usual (although three times infinity was still infinity). "Hmm?"

The human walrus gasped. "Report from Central 46," he managed between breaths, "there's been a security breach."

Aw shit, Nanao muttered to herself. The Soutaicho was on his way to Oligarch Hall for voting on Nanao's (aka Ichihime's) bill, and he had left her and the Kido Corps in charge of general alerts, since so much of the Gotei 13 leadership was tied up in trying to open up the Central 46 chambers to find the mole. "Alright, go investigate."

_"Me?"_

"Yes, _you,_" she insisted. "You're a vice captain, aren't you?"

"Well, uh, I - "

" - are moving as soon as your lardass legs can carry you, right?"

"Uh, yes; yes, that's what I was doing, uh - "

A twizzle of electricity began to sizzle on her fingers. _"Fuwu..."_

"_Hai,_ Shosho-sama, going!"

_Idiot,_ she muttered to herself.

-:-

_Several hours later_

Voting on the last proposal - a contentious bill governing the licensing of private senkai gates - finally finished, and Byakuya called for attention. "I submit to the registrar for the instatement of noble rights, a daughter to Grand Lady Kuchiki Rukia of the Kuchiki Clan and Sir Kurosaki Ichigo of the Shiba Clan, to be hereby known as Hikaru, by virtue of adoption through medical order from Chief Medical Officer of the Gotei 13, Captain of the 4th division Unohana Retsu."

Shouts of uproar came from the Middle and Lower Court. The Upper Court nobles were silent for the most part, although Kuzaku Mikoto gave a clear scowl of disagreement.

_"Preposterous!"_ Tenzo shouted.

_"Once was not enough for you?"_ challenged Naga Uyida, with his father Toretino nodding behind him.

_"He wishes to devalue the lineage of the aristocracy!"_ decried Hogane.

_"Worse! He wishes to dissolve nobility altogether!"_ Garaku accused.

Kuzaku raised his hands in silence, and the other courts complied. "Surely the other Heads of House disagree with such a ridiculous suggestion. Or are you sway to your husband's foolishness, Shiba-dono? Or perhaps just more fond of Rukongai rats, considering you were one for so long?"

Shiba scowled at him. "I endorse the submission to the registrar," she said coolly, not letting him make her lose her temper.

"Of course you do," Kuzaku said greasily. "But only because you wish to avoid a beating from your husband."

Byakuya's eyes shut in cold austerity. "I will not even deem that worthy of response."

"Certainly, the young and only recently minted Head of Banzo House will decide to follow her former captain?" Kuzaku asked pointedly, with shouts of affirmation at his prodding from the Middle and Lower Courts.

"Do not have the audacity to suggest that you have any insight into my decision-making," Ichihime snapped. "You are a fool to think that I would ever support such a brazen act of sacrilege. Diluting the Royal Bloodline with a mudblood infant? Do not presume to second-guess my positions, Kuzaku-san, or you will face my wrath when we discuss the grain mill fees that you so depend on for your livelihood!"

"You cannot believe that we will believe such posturing, Banzo-san!" shouted Garaku from the balconies. "You have voted 'aye' on his adoption proposals before!"

"Do you dare to insult my intelligence?" she shot back. "As if I am not shrewd enough to appease my former captain when the vote is irrelevant, knowing full well that nothing will come of it? You are an idiot to believe that a vote over the right to adopt while I serve under him is the same as a submission to the registrar while I am my own captain! Perhaps an idiot enough that your legislative authority over foresting and lumber distribution should be handed to someone else!"

"Empty threats!" responded Hogane. "Why don't you vote 'nay', then?"

_"Imbecile!"_ Ichihime bellowed. "Is there a vote, or just your empty accusations? There is no vote with which to deny them!"

Byakuya repeated his legislative point-of-order. "I submit to the registrar for the instatement of noble rights, a daughter of Grand Lady Kuchiki Rukia of the Kuchiki Clan and Sir Kurosaki Ichigo of the Shiba Clan, to be hereby known as Hikaru, by virtue of adoption through medical order from Chief Medical Officer of the Gotei 13, Captain of the 4th division Unohana Retsu."

Realization dawned upon the crowd as to what Kuchiki Byakuya was attempting to do. "You dare wish to submit such a registration without a vote?" Kuzaku challenged. "Impossible!"

"Unheard of!" Tenzo confirmed.

"Insanity!" Hogane shouted.

"Call it to a vote!" Naga Uyida shouted.

_"No,"_ Ryogi Shiki interjected, and the room fell silent at her sudden interruption. The Ryogi Family was respected, and their opinion mattered - especially in the Middle Court. They had been quiet for nearly the entire day, speaking up only to vote.

_"What?"_ Kuzaku challenged her.

An Upper Noble directly responding to a Middle Court member should have ended any protest, but Ryogi Shiki was not prepared to succumb to his pressure. "I said, _no_," she repeated coldly, her deathly eyes flaring, challenging her noble superior. "We will not call it to a vote. Let the point of order stand."

"What nonsense is this that you suggest!" Kuzaku ordered. "You dare to challenge my authority? We must call this to a vote!"

Shiki persisted. "We will do no such thing."

"Insolence!" Tenzo shouted at her. "Have you no pride in your blood?"

Shiki glared back at him. "I do not like it, but it is not my choice. I, of all people, do not wish to establish precedent at questioning the orders of the Chief Medical Officer of the Gotei 13, Tenzo-san. The prescription of an esteemed doctor is not for our legislative discussion; it is a matter to be followed. So unless you wish for us to discuss the finer points of your syphillis, and how you and your daughter seemed to contract such an ignoble disease at roughly the same time, I would suggest you sit down and cease the flapping of your ulcerous tobacco-stained gums, _you lowly bag of horse flatulence!"_

"Here, here," Nikayui Tesho confirmed. "I elevate the point of argument to House status, on the condition that Ryogi Shiki's point be codified in tractated debate."

"I confirm!" Omaeda Marechiyo added.

"Two confirms," Sasakibe Jego followed.

"Three confirms on condition of Ryogi Shiki's approval of authorial intent!" called out Kisuke.

"With pleasure," Shiki smirked.

"Point of order defended," Byakuya stated smugly before reading his executive order again. "I submit to the registrar for the instatement of noble rights, a daughter to Grand Lady Kuchiki Rukia of the Kuchiki Clan and Sir Kurosaki Ichigo of the Shiba Clan, to be hereby known as Hikaru, by virtue of adoption through medical order from Chief Medical Officer of the Gotei 13, Captain of the 4th division Unohana Retsu."

"We will not stand for this, Kuchiki Byakuya!" screamed Tenzo.

"You will suffer the consequences of your pigheadedness!" Naga hollered.

"Closure by absence of debate," Yoruichi called. "We have more important things to discuss than such banal nonsense."

"Confirmed," Kuukaku added.

"Denied by involvement!" Kuzaku retaliated. "She is your niece!"

"Confirmed," Ichihime jumped in, not wanting to lose momentum. "Too many words have been wasted already on a street rat's street rat. We have tax matters to resolve."

Ichigo nearly jumped out of his seat, but Karin's hand was clamped tightly on his shoulder. He let it go this time.

"Two confirms," Hikifune Muertara nodded.

"Three confirms," Kyoraku Shunsui said, seriously for a change. "Unohana Taicho's word is law. That is how it has to be."

The scribe annotated the registrar of nobles, and a kido spell sealed it. It was immutable: Kuchiki Hikaru was a full-fledged member of the nobility, with the same rights that had been granted to her mother before her.

Yoruichi continued. "Call to orde-"

"Not so fast!" Naga interjected. "Call to order! Double the taxation on sakura trees!"

"Retained to Middle Court," Kuzaku said smugly.

"Confirmed," Kinfon added.

Yoruichi looked at her retainer with disgust. "Denied!"

"On what grounds?" Tenzo demanded.

Yoruichi seethed. "On right of retainer!"

"Motion to veto!" called Tenzo.

"Confirm!" shouted Naga.

"Two confirms!" spat Garaku.

"Three confirms - denial is vetoed," chimed Kuzaku.

"Denied," interjected Ichihime. "The veto is against a denial of your restriction; you have already voted."

"Confirmed," Hikifune Muertara added, trying to play nice with Yoruichi but also because she had vested interest in the matter.

"Two confirms," Omaeda chirped.

"Three confirms," Rukia shouted, not realizing it was pointless.

"Denied!" shouted Naga. "Vote of self-interest! We will not allow a monopoly on cherries by the Kuchiki House!"

"Three confirms," Ganju spoke up, saving Rukia.

"Confirm denied," Yoruichi clarified. "The retention to Middle Court is without support!"

"Voting is open to all," Byakuya explained.

"Motion to repeal call to order on absence of support," Ryogi Hanbo Horo continued, wisely following the bouncing ball.

"No!" Tenzo shouted back. "I confirm!"

"Two confirms!" Garaku added.

"Three confirms!" Hogane confirmed. "Double taxation on sakura trees stands! Proceeds to be paid to the Lower Court! Establish the vote!"

Byakuya grit his teeth. He had lost that battle. Not that it really mattered on his estate - he had enough money to cope with the staggering increase - but it would hurt the development in Inazuri. There was still a chance he would win the vote, but with the Lower Court standing to get rich off of it, the Middle Court had thrown them a nice bone to sway their decision. It wasn't likely that the Heads of House vote would matter, even with their extra point bonuses for being Gotei 13 captains. "Nay."

"Zero-Five," the scribe called.

"Nay," Kuukaku noted.

"Zero-Ten..."

By the time the Upper Court had finished voting, the Kuzaku, Sasakibe, and Fon families had voted 'Aye' at three points apiece, although Omaeda and Nikayui had abstained because Yoruichi and Ichihime chose not to vote aye or nay. Including the Hikifune vote, the Kurosaki vote, and the extra-point Urahara and Kyoraku votes, that led the impromptu bill a tally of 9-24. It would not be enough.

The Yamamoto Family's four-point vote - two for being members of the Middle Court and two for Captain-Commander representation in the Gotei 13, which gave them twice the voting power than the rest of the Middle Court - helped only marginally. Besides them, the only Middle Court votes in their favor were the Ryogi Family and the Kasumi-Ouji Family, who also stood to suffer financial loss from the measure. Despite that, the Middle Court was a stompfest. Naga, Tenzo, and Garaku easily had the Middle Court in their hands, flooding the ayes with almost thirty two-point votes of Middle Court. Even their rival Hogane voted with them. The Lower Court was pointless; Ukitake and Kilikum were the only nays. Fifty-eight more single-point votes of the lower court made it a blowout.

"Call to order," Yoruichi began again, quickly this time so that she could not be interrupted again. "Referendum of individual votes to pardon and otherwise completely erase the criminal record of Shihoin Toyuki Tokine, on grounds that she stands falsely accused of charges!"

"On what evidence?" Naga Uyida challenged.

"The following documents which are being distributed as we speak," Urahara clarified, gesturing to the Shihoin majordomo that was passing out booklets.

"Individual vote supported," Ichihime interjected.

"Motion to suppress - unfair balance of power in the Court of Houses!" Kuukaku challenged.

"Motion to suppress," Kuzaku added.

"Motion to suppress," Kinfon called.

"Motion for individual vote is suppressed," Naga Uyida called. "Motion to veto proposal on no-basis and defamation of my Family!"

"Denied on self involvement," Ryogi Shiki rolled her eyes at him. "Could you be any less lazy?"

"Denial confirmed," Hikifune Muertara butted in.

"Call to escalate to Upper Court!" Ichihime called.

"Denial on grounds of family interest!" shouted Naga, trying again. "You are her cousin!"

"For Kami's sake," Ichihime muttered, "all of the members of the Court of Houses and Upper Courts are cousins of some kind."

"Call to escalate to Upper Court," called Kuukaku, trying to keep the Middle Court out of it altogether. This was going to get hideous, and they needed this vote. It could make or break the next proposal - Toki's vote was worth a whopping four points if they could swing it. The Middle Court was going to fight to the death on this one.

"DENIAL ON GROUNDS OF COURT-OF-HOUSE REBELLION!" screamed Tenzo, Hogane, and Garaku all at once.

"Motion to veto denial," called Muertara, knowing that as an Upper Court member herself, this accusation wouldn't fly against her and she could uphold the escalation. Vetos could not be denied on collective self-interest. Muertara personally didn't care one way or the other about the proposal in discussion, but the rebellion bit was getting old and she always vetoed against it on principle.

"Veto," Kyoraku called.

"Veto," Kisuke added.

"Motion to veto denied on individual self-interest - married to the House of Shihoin!"

"Three vetos," Omaeda said bravely, "escalate!"

"Denial on retainer status!" Naga shouted furiously.

"Denial rejected, you petty piece of cockaroach crap," Ichihime shouted back down at him with a glare that would kill. "You can't have it both ways - you cannot have retainers invoke tableturn rights when you agree with them yet have them cower before House votes when they don't!"

"Denial rejection confirmed on condition of legislative record!" Shiki called out.

"Authorial intent agreed," Ichihime added.

"Two confirms," said Nikayui Tesho.

"Three confirms," said Sasakibe. "Retainers must always reserve the right of tableturn, for support or rejection!"

"Point of order recorded," Yoruichi challenged. "The denial for escalation was rejected. Matter elevated to Upper Court!"

"FUCK YOU, SHIHOIN!" Naga screamed. "I WILL MAKE YOU EAT SHIT!"

"Go ahead and try," Yoruichi sneered back at him.

"Voting closed to Middle and Lower Courts," Byakuya stated. "Establish the vote!"

"Nay!" Kuukaku called.

"Zero/Five," the scribe called.

"Aye!" Yoruichi voted.

"Five/Five," the scribe called.

"Aye," Ichihime confirmed.

"Ten/Five..."

"Nay," Byakuya voted.

"Ten/Ten..."

"You have made enemies, Shihoin-dono," Kuzaku called. "Nay."

"Ten/Thirteen."

"I do not wish to live under the thumb of the Shihoin House no longer!" Kinfon shouted. "I will not give you someone else to lord over me, you runaway witch! Nay!"

"Ten/Sixteen!"

Omaeda Marechiyo stood his ground like the proud man he should have been more often. Too bad Soifon Taicho couldn't see him now. "She's no killer," he said. "Aye! Strike her record!"

"YOU SNIVELING SACK OF FAT!" Naga shouted. "I will make you eat your own turds!"

"Thirteen/Sixteen!"

"Aye," Ichigo agreed. "Let her take her place."

"Sixteen/Sixteen!"

"The Sasakibe Family refuses to succumb to such flimsy proposals! Nay!"

"Sixteen/Nineteen!"

There were four votes left: Kyoraku and Urahara, with their two bonus points for holding captaincies, and the six points across Hikifune and Nikayui.

Urahara signalled an obvious 'Aye', and the scribe called out again: "Twenty/Nineteen!"

Shunsui smiled lazily. This was turning out to be quite a ruckus. "Aye."

"Twenty-four/Nineteen!"

Muertara smiled with glee. In theory, the six points between her and Nikayui Tesho could reject the proposal by a one-point margin, but her spite was directed elsewhere at the moment. "Sorry, Kuzaku-san, but I'm the vote breaker. I suppose I'll spare Nikayui-dono the quandary of indecision," she smiled haughtily, watching his face flare red in anger. "Blame it on yourself, Kuzaku-san - that double taxation on sakura trees will hurt my farmers and crush my tax gains - _you piss me off!_ Aye, and lock the vote!"

"Twenty-seven/Nineteen! Tally forced - vote for legislative record!"

"Abstain," Tesho said ceremoniously, for his vote wouldn't matter and it was the safest way to keep him out of trouble. It was one of the few advantages to being the last vote in the Upper Court.

"Twenty-seven, nineteen!" the scribe called. "The vote stands! The record for Shihoin Toyuki Tokine is repealed on account of falsely laid charges."

Naga was ready to explode but was shrewd enough to continue. "Motion to supress further points of order from the Court of Houses!"

_Shit,_ Ichihime thought. "Denied!"

"Denial rejected on grounds of self-interest!" Tenzo retorted.

"Denial supported!" Garaku added.

"Motion to suppress confirmed!" Hogane shouted.

"Two confirms!" Garaku repeated.

"Veto to suppress motion!" Muertara interceded. If she let the Four Houses get locked out, she knew very well that Kuchiki Byakuya would haunt her every waking and sleeping moment if she didn't speak up. Muertara had previously been in the hot seat with him before for not preventing a Four House lockout, and she had no desire to have the Stoneheart Prince find a reason to provide her with undue attention.

"Veto denied!" called Kinfon. "Or they will foist upon us something hideous!"

"Veto denied twice," said Sasakibe coolly.

Yoruichi was absolutely furious. A key part of the plan was that her retainers would support Yoruichi's vote, and that the Sasakibe family would cooperate with the pending legislation in order to avenge Chojiro's death. But now, Kinfon saw blood in the water; and they were going after her - and the Sasakibe family was trying to assert its independence, despite formally being a retainer for the House of Shiba. Somebody must have been bribing them under the table.

Rukia interceded, trying a different tactic - it was a huge gambit, but as far as she was concerned, she had already won everything she wanted here. "Motion to restrict vote to Lower Court!"

Goddamnit, Ichihime thought. That lady Rukia is fucking _brilliant._

"Preposterous!" called Kuzaku.

"Confirmed!" Shiki inserted.

And goddamnit, that lady Shiki has _balls_, Ichihime thought. Makina was so right to pick her as an ally.

"Denied!" Garaku interjected.

"Denial rejected on self-interest," Yoruichi smirked at him.

"Denial supported," Byakuya spoke.

"Denial supported," Kuukaku retaliated. "Call to confirm Ryogi!"

"Confirmed!" Yamamoto Riordo included, bravely motioning to deny himself his powerful vote.

"Confirmed," the quiet head of the Kasumi-Ouji family added. "For I will not let the Naga Family remove my right to hear the matters yet to be proposed by the Heads of House."

Unbelievable, Ichihime thought. What a maneuver - I can't believe that worked! Ichihime was going to have to give Shorty Taicho a nice pat on the back for that one.

"DENIAL!" screamed Naga.

"Denial rejected on self-interest!" defended Rukia with a sassy grin.

"DENIED!" screamed Kuzaku.

"Denial rejected on self-interest," Ichihime smiled toothily. "Give it up, Mikoto-kun. We win. You lose. Get used to it."

"Motion passes by absence of valid objections - voting rights restricted to the Lower Court," Byakuya said triumphantly.

Ukitake Jushiro stood up proudly. This was the first time he had ever spoken during the legislative process. Normally, the Lower Court was quiet until it was time to cast votes. "To my fellow members of the Lower Court," he addressed. "This is where our say matters: will we close off the call for further legislation, and deny ourselves the very contributions we could actually make, or do we trust that our strength in numbers will be enough to overthrow tyranny? I ask you - are we cowards, or are we men?" he shouted. "Establish the vote! Nay!"

Ichihime never thought she would see the day, but a unanimous sixty-one-point vote broke the stranglehold on Naga's point of order, crushing it with defiance. Proudly, Ukitake addressed the full court. "Motion to hear next point of order!"

"Call to order," called Ichihime. "To proceed with next point of order on referendum on individual rights."

"How can we vote on something that we don't know what we are voting for?" whined Sasakibe.

"The Heads of House are here to crush our legislative authority with these referendums!" Kuzaku called. "Establish the vote! Show them that we will not let them overrule us!"

Heh, impulsive idiot, Ichihime thought.

The four Heads of House were quick to call aye, and to Kuzaku's dismay, he realized he had overestimated the loyalty of his allies, Sasakibe Jego and Kinfon. They also voted aye for individual votes, because they had been informed that they stood to gain in favor of the results. Tesho, the swing vote that was normally an abstention on these matters, also voted aye.

And then Ryogi Shiki interceded, crushing Kuzaku's hopes even further. "Give them a taste of their own medicine!" Shiki called. "We outnumber them! Aye!"

Cocky laughs in the middle court swayed a good number of voters as they realized that they had their deputies with them. The middle court voted down the measure, but only by sixty percent - and a near-solid turnout from the Lower Court tipped the tables in Ichihime's favor. The Lower Court often brought two to four members to the session - their voting power was greatly amplified by a call for individual votes, and so they were more than happy to vote in favor of increasing their voting power.

Goddamnit, Ichihime had to find that Ryogi Shiki a husband, because holy shit she owed her. "Referendum defended!" Ichihime shouted. "Point of order - Legislative attention to narrow on Bill 46! Motion to continue!"

-:-

_Meanwhile_

Rantao's shock had finally worn off, and now she sighed. What a sad scene.

The floor of Kuzaku Mikoto's hotel room was covered in blood. The body had been removed from the scene, but the head was still there; staring up at her with a ghastly visage of post-beheading realization that his head was separated from his body; the last moments of consciousness of a dying man who was staring at his own headless figure. It was an awful thought.

She didn't have any of her lab equipment, so reishi readings were out of the question; but she now realized why Urahara Taicho had wanted her to come. He had likely suspected something of this sort would happen, and Rantao's unique ability to google the universe was the best way to solve a mystery like this. His text message had identified the victim as Hunji-majordomo, head of staff for the Kuzaku family.

With a whispered _Seek and ye shall find_, she released Occulus Omnispectivus into shikai and got straight to work. _Show me the location of this victim's killer,_ she asked it; and the answer was immediate.

Unbelievable, she thought. I know politics can be hardball, and that nobles have their own set of ethics - but killing your own majordomo? What was the purpose in that?

She left the crime scene as it was and slipped out unseen after taking a few pictures with her phone. Texting Urahara her findings, she left it up to him to fabricate the scientific evidence to hide the real facts of how she had deduced the truth.

Shortly thereafter, she got a text from Ise-san. That in and of itself was unusual, although not unprecedented. Shunsui never carried a phone with him, and Nanao often texted her with the suspicion that her father was nearby. Opening it up, Kiku discovered that Ise had intended Rantao to pass the message on to a different recipient - Rantao's captain. The news was bad enough that it prompted her to call Urahara, deciding that it couldn't wait until she could get to him in person.

"Yes?" came his lazy reply.

"Just got a text from Ise Shosho. There was an alert about a security breach in Central 46, so she sent her vice captain to investigate."

Urahara's tone changed. He was serious now. "And?"

"A kido tracking spell she put on him has just turned up some disturbing news."

"Don't tell me," Urahara muttered. "He's dead, right?"

"Not sure," Kiku answered. "The kido was dispelled somewhere deep in the underground chambers."

His face froze. "How deep?"

"Basement 19."

Urahara swore. The secret labs. There was no way Ise's lieutenant (whatever his name was, Kisuke couldn't remember) should have been able to even get in to Central 46 without a complicated set of security checks; to get into Basement 19 was impossible. Not even Urahara Kisuke could get in there so easily. "Get to Ise-san," he ordered. "She'll need you at command central. Find out what you can, but I suspect Ise-san will want you to help her. I'll let Kyouraku Taicho know."

"Hai," she confirmed, and high-tailed it to her room. No matter how urgent things were, there was no way she was going to take military commands from her boyfriend's daughter in an ill-fitting pink yukata.

-:-

Rukia was proud to see Toki get her first vote as a reinstated member of the Shihoin House. Bobbing her head in tune with the iPod buds that blocked out the noise and mirrored sunglasses to limit the light intake, she happily signed [Aye, Aye!] like she was Michael Jackson in the middle of a moonwalk.

The House vote was a tidal wave. Kuchiki led off with ten points across its two captains, Kuukaku/Ganju and Yoruichi/Toyuki threw out mammoth nine-point swings, and Ichihime's fiver set the starting tally at a 33/0. The Upper Court took that tidal wave into the stratosphere. Omaeda Marechiyo and Ganju's wife, Omaeda Ina, both voted in favor, and Kinfon surprisingly followed suit to go 42/0. Kyoraku Jun-Jidano pissed off Muertara by voting with Shunsui and his bonus point to hit 49, and Urahara's captain bonus put it at 53 before Sasakibe was convinced to vote 'aye' to make it 56. Ichigo and Karin upped it to 62.

By stroke of luck, the Kuzaku vote was officially an abstention, as no one was present to vote. While Bill 46 was under discussion, Kuzaku Mikoto and his two sons were escorted out of the legislative session by hotel security staff. Ichihime had been relieved when that had happened - he could have easily convinced Sasakibe and Fon to vote against the bill, and that would have likely snowballed in the Middle Court.

Not surprisingly, Hikifune was split, with Muertara objecting to the potential influence on her authority but Yoshino eager to drop her sister down a notch. At 65/3, it was a strong opening - but Ichihime's plan could only work because of the Nikayui Family. Tesho brought all seven sons to the floor for the vote, and Adame smiled up at Ichihime as they laid in a whopping twenty-four point swing. Going into the Middle Court vote, it was a monstrous 89-3.

The start of the Middle Court was promising. Yamamoto Genryusai Shikeguni Soutaicho made a brief appearance to provide the Yamamoto Family's Middle Court vote with three eligible members for their base six and two bonus votes, and the Ryogi Shiki and Hanbo added their four points. With a 101/3 start, the Kasumi-Ouji Family set the tone, and their five voting members made it 111/3. Surprisingly, a number of the other Middle Court members actually supported the measure, and several others abstained when they would have likely opposed the bill. The tally was 149-87 before heading into the Lower Court. The Lower Court could still sink the bill, but Ichihime knew that she was likely in the clear.

Ukitake Jushiro had brought along his twelve siblings - even his twelve-year old brother who had just become elegible for voting - and along with his bonus point, brought the tally to 163-87. The rest of of the Lower Court was heavily in favor of the anti-corruption measure, leaving the final vote at 231-126. It was an epic blowout on a bill that would have never passed on a normal single-vote-per-family procedure.

Ichihime wore a smile of triumph as the scribe recorded the results: "Bill 46 passes!"

Praise Kami, it's over, she thought. Politicking sucks. Although, I suppose learning bankai and becoming a captain were nice side benefits of the ordeal, so I really shouldn't complain, right?

_This is true, Hime-sama,_ Shiji agreed.

Yep. Although it has been really busy lately.

_Still will be. You do have a wedding to prepare for, remember?_

Yeah, I guess. Well, at least for now, I can finally relax, right?

-:-

Fuwu looked into the eyes of a madman. A madman who was so crazy that he wore a thin veneer of sanity just for kicks. "You'll never get away with this!"

"And you, my fine fat friend, have been watching way too many 1980s cartoons," Q answered.

"What are you going to do with me?" Fuwu asked as he struggled against the chains.

"You?" Q asked. "Nothing."

Fuwu looked at him.

"Not yet, anyway," Q clarified. He then picked up a small glowing orb off of the table. "Do you know what this is?"

"...No."

"This, Sir Blubbery Blue Beach Ball, is the Hougyoku."

Fuwu's breath escaped as though an olive press had been dropped on his chest.

"My partner couldn't get it to work, you should know. That's because he forgot the most essential ingredient. You see, Aizen knew exactly what the Hougyoku needed, 'cause he was an evil bastard just like me. Well, I'm not evil, because evil implies good, and that's all just subjective morality. When you don't believe in morality, there really is no such thing as evil."

Fuwu decided it would be unwise to speak, and allowed the crazy scientist to continue monolouging.

"See, the problem is that the Hougyoku needs to be recharged. It hasn't been fed." Q then took out a purple-bladed sword. "Good thing I have a whole lot of life force in here, isn't it?" Pointing it at the circle in his other hand, he released the Blade of Epsilon. _"Flow forth, Murusame,"_ he commanded it, and a wispy trail of reiatsu began to usher forth from the tip. The hungry glowing ball began to suck up the energy like a high-powered vacuum, and the stream of reishi went from being a trail of fine smoke into a glowing laser-like beam of energy that eventually widened and brightened until it was as strong as an industrial spotlight.

At some point, Fuwu wet himself. There was no way he was getting out of here alive.

Eventually, Q tossed Murusame aside, and seized the glowing ball in his hands. "Yes," he said. "Yes - _yes, yes! It's alive!"_ Q then turned to Fuwu and laughed, oddly amused with himself. "Heh heh - I always wanted to say that."

Scrambling over to his workbench, Q grabbed a plain katana, fresh from Central 46's armory of approved weapons to be given out to Shinou Academy graduates. It was a blade destined to become a zanpakutou, although no one ever would have predicted it would have met this particular destiny.

Without turning to face Fuwu, Q asked him a question as he began to calibrate some equipment. "Shinigami, tell me - do you believe in God?"

"...Uh, why?"

"Just curious," Q shrugged, clamping the asauchi into place with a vice.

"...I do," he admitted. Fuwu was actually a devout Circular. He had even tried proselytizing to his general, Ise. Fuwu had the sneaking suspicion that she was a devil worshipper - she seemed to have some preoccupation with the forces of Hell. Unfortunately, she wasn't interested in converting, not to his faith nor to even consider becoming Continuous, which was far better than being a follower of Satan - but every time he raised the idea, she would close down the conversation. On the other hand, he supposed it was a better response than what she usually gave him, since her usual responses typically referred to his intolerance for pain.

"Fascinating," Q continued, not really paying much attention to Fuwu. "I find it so interesting how some people believe in a divinity. I, of course, do not."

What a surprise, Fuwu thought.

"Which is a shame, really," Q admitted. "If there isn't a God, it sure would be nice if we made one, wouldn't it?"

"...'Made one'?"

"Sure! Why not?"

Fuwu didn't bother trying to come up with a protest to that question. He just stayed quiet. It was hard to argue theology with someone who was barely sane.

Q adjusted some machinery, and then pressed a button. Afterwards, he got up from the desk and continued his conversation as a buzz of reishi swirled and churned around the clamped sword. "I bet you're wondering what I'm talking about, so I'll explain, okay? For quite some time, I was responsible for watching over this poor little whelp of a girl who just so happened to be nearly immortal. See, she was the wielder of the most powerful zanpakutou spirit I'd ever heard of - the great and mighty Genesis, the spirit who supposedly created the universe by willing the laws of mathematics and biology into existence; formulating Maxwell's equations, the chemical compositions of cell structures, and the laws of DNA-based organisms, magnestism, and chemistry. This is the being that so many of you call God, is it not?"

Fuwu nodded as he shuddered, realizing that the man in front of him was even crazier than he initially suspected. No single person could wield something of that power.

"The problem is, Shinigami, that this being you call God is a _thing_. It's a zanpakutuou. It can be measured, detected, studied, dissected, and investigated; until us scientists can explain every last molecular and reishiological bond that composes its entire subspace across multiple dimensions; how it thinks and how it is connected to its owner. And once we know that complex neurological information - and after studying this zanpakutou for so many years, I can tell you I know every last detail - _then we can copy it."_

With that, Q removed the blade from the vice. It was no longer a katana - it now resembled a sleek, saber-like wakizashi. It had an unfinished wooden handle with inscriptions of all kinds of text in multiple languages; some of which Fuwu didn't recognize despite his shinigami gift of tongues. Fuwu looked back to the table and realized that the small glowing ball was now gone.

No - not gone. He could still feel its malevolent aura.

_It was now in the blade._

Holding it out to show Fuwu his new toy, Q smiled deeply. "And that, my friend, is how _I_ will become a god."

And then he cut Fuwu from stem to stern, allowing a briar patch to grow in the cut. The rabid bush began to consume Fuwu, slowly enveloping him until there was nothing left of him to see.

"Cool! Now, time for more research," he said out loud. He would not make Aizen's mistake, because he was a scientist. Investigate, experiment; the scientific method: theorize, evaluate, conclude for or against the hypothesis. He would understand everything first. Then he would finally perform the last step using the information from his zanpakutou extraction on Hinamori Momo - he would bind his own soul to the zanpakutou, and everything would be complete. He wouldn't make Aizen's mistake of trading the shinigami's power of a sword for the power of the Hougyoku - no, he would use them both. He was almost ready; just a little bit more time, and he would become God.

And only then would he prove Morgan wrong.

* * *

_We are getting closer! **Reviews, please!** C'mon, I miss hearing from y'all. (By the way - if you had trouble following a large portion of this chapter, don't worry, that was deliberate. ;D)  
Next chapter: Things heat up as we approach the final arc - a showdown awaits!_


	46. Shifting, Drifting, Never Uplifting

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note:** Sorry chapter is so late. Life has been ridiculously hectic and this chapter needed a lot of work._

_**Translator's note:** The root "ouji" means prince, and "oujo" means princess. Since there are two captain Kuchikis, it should be relatively easy to understand why Byakuya and Rukia might be referred to as 'Oujitaicho' and 'Oujotaicho', in order to avoid confusion._

* * *

_"...Hey."_

_Hikaru turned her head to see Banzo Vojiro sitting down next to her on the bench. ['Sup?]_

_"Taking a breather?"_

_Hikaru shrugged. Vojiro interpreted it as 'more or less'._

_"Congratulations on your pending promotion," he said enthusiastically. "I'm sure your mother is extremely proud."_

_Hikaru smiled but didn't move much. She had a burnout day and was in a foul mood after putting up with all kinds of snide nepotistic remarks in the barracks. Her answer was done in lazy, single-handed shorthand. [Yeah - Ma's really happy, thanks. She says she can't wait until I get my badge.]_

_"You look beat," he smiled. "Hungry, or just ready for bed?"_

_Hikaru patted her belly, nodded, and gave a weak smile along with a thumbs up._

_"C'mon, my treat," he said, giving her a hand and helping her up. "Anything in particular you like to eat?"_

_[Don't laugh,] she signed, [but a cheeseburger would rock right now.]_

_Vojiro's mouth twisted up in confusion. Although his mother hated fancy food and he was familiar with Japanese commoner's comestibles, he had no idea what she was talking about. On top of that, even if he knew what a cheeseburger was, he certainly couldn't deduce the meaning from the sign language. His gift of tongues couldn't cover ignorance. Vojiro tried to cover up. "Sure," he reasoned. "Why don't you pick a good place?"_

_She tilted her head in an approving 'follow-me' gesture, and Vojiro let her lead the way._

_~Some time in the future_

* * *

_"Aw, c'mon, Yo-chan. Every female shinigami since the dawn of time does that. Hell, I think it's just about the only thing I use my zanpakutou for nowadays."_

_"Uh, Zari-chan - Hinamori-san doesn't use the hilt."_

_Now that made Zari wince._

_~Casual conversation between Shihoin Zarina and her older friend, 9th division lieutenant Hikifune Yoshino; some time far into the future _

* * *

_"I do not wish to participate in such ignoble discussions."  
__~Kuchiki Hisako, regarding Zari's invitation to join the crowd and talk about boys_

_"For someone so disinterested, she sure seems to be paying close enough attention."_  
_~a whispered observation from Banzo Sarashina to Shiba Kanchi _

* * *

_"Sado-kun, you must demand that your sister cease that dreadful racket."_

_"C'mon, Hisako-sama, cut us some slack," Sado protested. Otousan hasn't even been gone a week, a you're being a stuffy bitch. He was your uncle, for shit's sake. "Let her be."_

_Hisako sighed. She thought the blaring electric violin was a disgrace to the proper funereal tenor of the Kuchiki House at this unfortunate time, but Hikaru had always dealt with matters in her own unique fashion. Hisako already knew that there was nothing she could say that would change Hikaru's mind. "If I must," she dismissed, and parted for her room._

_~Conversation between Kuchiki Hisako and her cousin, Kuchiki-Kurosaki Sado (Hikaru's younger brother, named after __Sado _Yasutora, who had always been called by his surname);  
shortly after the death of Kurosaki Ichigo

* * *

Ichigo rushed into the Kuchiki reception area of the Court of Houses social hall. He couldn't wait to see Rukia. Karin was in hot pursuit, possibly because she didn't want to be left alone or more likely because she thought her brother was going to do something stupid.

Charging through the door without waiting for the Kuchiki majordomo to open them for him, Ichigo burst open the waiting room to find himself in the middle of a party. Yourichi was gabbing about with Urahara and Kyouraku. Rukia was already drinking a glass of red wine, talking with Byakuya, Auntie K, and - _Banzo?_

"Hey, look who finally hauled their ass in here," Ichihime jabbed, tossing Ichigo a beer. He caught it just as Karin rushed in.

"What the fuck...?" Ichigo and Karin said in unison.

"Ne, Ichigo-kun, join the ppprrrarty!" Yoruichi cheered, her words slightly slurred. Karin was pretty sure that she had been drinking.

"P...party?" Ichigo stuttered. "But... but... you - and you -" he stammered, pointing at Auntie K/Byakuya and then at Banzo.

Ichihime turned to Rukia with an annoyed expression. "You mean you didn't tell him?"

Rukia shook her head. "He's a brilliant doctor, a wonderful husband, a marvelous father, and not bad as a shinigami," she smirked, "but he's a terrible actor."

"What?" Karin asked, slightly stupefied.

"Oh, and I didn't tell Karin-chan because I knew Ichigo would force it out of her."

Ichigo's mouth flapped open like someone had used a tire jack to crank it wide. "You mean-"

"That Shorty Taicho over here and I are actually friends?"

"You know I hate it when you call me that, Ichihime-san," Rukia protested.

"It's better than 'Byakushi'," Byakuya uncharacteristically commented. "Banzo-dono, did you really have to go that far?"

"Eh, sorry 'bout that, Oujitaicho," she apologized sheepishly. "It was a heat-of-the-moment thing."

Kuukaku, who was obviously very drunk by now, shoulder-bumped Ichihime. "_Hah hah!_ I _loved_ it!" she guffawed. "Just don't do that again," she cautioned with a humorous intonation, pointing her finger at Ichihime with drink still in hand. "That's my name for him in bed!"

"Hey, you and 'Chiru-chan got that name from me! I had it first!" Yoruichi whined while laughing. Yeah, she was definitely quite drunk.

"Yeah, but you never got him in the sack!" Kuukaku called back. "It's my name now!"

Byakuya was so mortified that he actually put his hand over his brow. Ichihime was cringing at the exchange of too-much-information. Rukia was sighing and wishing she didn't have to hear this.

Ichigo was just dumbfounded. "But - but- but you voted to have my division abolished!"

"Didn't want to. Sorry 'bout that," Ichihime said sincerely. "You can blame Ise-senpai. She knew it was going to happen. The odds of you keeping it intact were less than one percent."

"But you called Ruki-nee a street rat!" Karin shouted at her.

"That was my idea," Rukia interjected. "Although, you know, Ichihime-chan, I think 'urchin' would have worked, too."

"Can someone please explain WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" Ichigo shouted.

"It was all a game, Kurosaki-san," Urahara explained. "Just politics."

"Politics?"

"Exactly," Urahara confirmed. "If we pretended like we were all on the same side, we would have been fighting 'Four Houses Rebellion' charges all day."

"And you still had a few today, despite all of the bickering," Shunsui laughed. "Imagine how bad it would have been otherwise."

Rukia came over and wrapped her arms around her husband's waist. "It worked, didn't it? Hikaru is ours, Ichigo. I don't care about anything else."

"Yeah, you can close your jaw now, before you catch some flies," Ichihime sassed. "I've been waiting to congratulate you face-to-face now for a while, even if you are Asswipe's son."

"Hey!" Kuukaku protested. "Only I can call my older brother Asswipe," she frowned. "You can call him Doofus. Doofus-sama, actually, since he taught you bankai."

"My dad taught you _bankai?_" Karin gagged. _"When?"_

"Hey hey," Ichihime protested, sipping her gin. "When did this become all about me? I thought we were congratulating Shorty Taicho and Captain Doofus-sama Jr over here? I wanna know if Hikaru-chan likes the bassinet I made for her. Took me a month, you know."

"Wait - what happened to Komamura Taicho?" Ichigo asked, still a bit shell-shocked. He had just noticed the '7' on the back of Ichihime's haori, noticing it only for the first time.

"Kenpachi!" Rukia said excitedly. "I'm so happy for Sensei!"

Ichigo opened his beer and took a chug. He wasn't understanding anything that was going on at all. Apparently, the only way he was going to adjust to all of this was with some liberal doses of alcohol.

-:-

Momo sat impatiently as Iemura San Seki inspected her pupils for dilation. The light in her eyes was irritating, but at the very least he was highly competent in his evaluation.

After a few moments of browsing through her file, he sighed and put the clipboard down. "I can't explain how you're okay, but you're okay," he said. "You can sign out of the infirmary if you want - but you have a two-week injunction on work. No kido and especially no shunpo. Rest up and try to take it easy. You may have some balance and light sensitivity issues, as you are not totally adjusted to your new eye quite yet. It will take some time until your brain will feel comfortable with the artificial eye and stop trying to overcompensate in your natural one. And stay away from cigarettes - we've detoxed you so you shouldn't feel any more cravings, but it won't help if you start smoking again."

Momo nodded. "Anything else?" she asked quietly, her voice divested of any interest or positivity.

"...It's up to you," Iemura said cautiously, "but standard practice in these kinds of situations is to recommend trauma counseling. We can set up an appointment if you like."

Momo was quiet for a while. "...I'll seek private counseling," she proposed. It was better than saying no and having him write down that she was refusing the idea.

"Okay... would you like us to provide some recommendations?"

"...I have someone in mind already," she answered evasively.

Iemura sighed. Unohana Taicho was going to be very unhappy with him, but he had no choice. She had been asking to leave every six hours, and he no longer had a basis for keeping her. Hinamori was a patient, not a prisoner. "Alright... sign here, then."

She did so, and then she waited for him to leave. Eventually, he took the hint, and with a few niceties on his part, he quickly wished her well and indicated that he had other patients to attend to. Momo was admittedly appreciative that he had requested a taxi for her - one of the Rukongai kind, where you sat in a wheeled basket and a person hand-carted you off. She told the driver, an old man who was respectful and polite but still terrified of her ghastly appearance, that she wanted to go home; and told him the address.

Time passed as though she was a headless ghost. The rickety cart brought her down the whitewashed maze of Sereitei halls, dull and all blended together in a bland limestone continuity. By the time she arrived; Momo was completely detached from reality, as though her life was nothing more than fleeting passage through emptiness. It wasn't a matter of despair or an absence of hope; it was simply a void. A callous insensitivity to feel anything. She was alive, but she was already dead.

The door to her apartment led her to a room that was still a mess, with laundry and unwashed dishes and random books and scrolls in the same disarray it had been when Q had first kidnapped her. The smell was abysmal, however; as the sink reeked of mold's sour stench and the laundry was permeated with the pungent odor of old, baked sweat. The whole room to her was a vortex of misery - a disappointment, a package of filth from her old life which no longer held value. Her lack of energy and low reiatsu reserves prevented her from torching the place with kido, so she laboriously toiled for several hours against her weak stamina to produce several large bags for the dumpster. She even tossed away several cartons of smokes - not because she was trying to heed Iemura's order, but simply because the earthly pleasure of smoking no longer held any appeal to her: nothing held any appeal to her.

Eventually, she had stripped the small vice-captain's apartment in the barracks to its bare essentials - a working sink, some simple hygenic products and a bar of hand soap; her journal and important documets; a closet with only two uniforms in it, a sleeping robe, and a small collection of undergarments. The only thing she had saved from her previous extensive wardrobe were the jeans, camisole, gloves and boots that she had worn to see Morgan. It was a matter of practicality; she reasoned. If she needed to travel to the real world, she would need suitable attire, and it was better to present herself in a manner that people would take seriously. Personally, though, she didn't believe she would be using them any time soon. She was a Death God. Playing human was for humans - the living ones. Hinamori Momo was among the dead.

Unsatisfied with the lack of total austerity, she removed all of the pictures from the wall. There were still a few of Izuru that she didn't even bother to expend energy destroying; she simply tossed them in the garbage. The ones of Toshiro, though, she saved; and actually took a moment to glance at each one. He had visited her several times while she was in the hospital, even though he was extraordinarily busy without a lieutenant to help him. Momo knew he had come to see her and Matsumoto, hoping that Rangiku would wake up, too. Momo was appreciative that he had genuinely cared.

Additionally, Momo had one picture of her and Karin that she decided to save, and several of her at Rukia's wedding. She put them in her desk drawer. To Momo, most of these pictures - especially the wedding ones - seemed like they were only marginally important anymore; to be preserved only for the sake of historical record. Still, she supposed it was wrong to dispose of them. Shiro-chan was her only family.

After putting those thoughts aside, she continued her reductionist excercise with an unsentimental attitude. Her two night-tables, her small kitchen table, and her bedframe were all removed and placed in the free-for-all area of the barracks, where she knew others would gladly make use of them. When she was done, her only furniture was a small Japanese-style kneeling desk that could be used for eating and working, a simple sitting pillow, and her futon which now rested on the floor.

Exhausted, she rested. It was a listless, drifting sleep that was hazy and not very refreshing; and she awoke barely more than an hour later. The spoiled food in her fridge had been removed during her spring cleaning, and was now clean and empty of everything but a sealed bottle of a water. She took a drink and then entered her bathroom to shower. Momo studied her appearance in the mirror. Her last vestiges of vanity had left her; there was no beauty there anymore. It was just a feral, beastly face; a repulsive, dreadful monster of a stare. It was as if the reflecting glass told her everything she did not yet know about herself. Her scars itched, and she scratched at them.

Momo's perfunctory shower was over soon enough, and before she got dressed, she withdrew her zanpakutou and stared at it. She liked its titanium blade and the sharp gleam in its cold, calculating edge; the way it talked to her about its love for her and her love for it. It was her sword; it was the only thing in the world that could never harm her. It was an ironclad fact of existence, for if that had not been the case, she would not be alive today. It could be cruel to everyone but her.

Without any hesitation, shame, concern, or reticence, she placed the razor-edged katana up against her bare womanhood and sensually stroked herself with it until she had completed her task. To Momo, it was nothing more than a simple hygenic matter; a basic animalistic need no different from eating, drinking, or sleeping; a straightforward component of standard biological maintenance. For all intents and purposes, the relief it provided Momo was no more rewarding than the sensation of an overdue voiding of urine or evacuation of waste. The only difference was that to her, it was at the very least an admission of her love for her Savior.

Dressing in one of her clean uniforms, Momo opened an illegal senkai gate, not concerning herself with the repercussions. She needed to find Morgan. He was the only one who knew enough about Q to do anything.

-:-

Naji Futama's evening was proving to be a complete rollercoaster. When Kusajishi Yachiru had showed up at his station in the 1st division compound, he had been quite happy to see her. It had been awhile - she had only recently fully recovered from her hospitalization and was finally back on duty. Eager to ask her how she was feeling, she had surprised him by collapsing on top of him in a heap of tears, crying and mourning and in an awful state of disarray.

It had taken a few minutes of trying to understand what was going on when she finally began to get a hold of herself. Naji soon understood why she was such a wreck - she had just finalized trading badges with Lieutenant Iba, and the pain and loss of her previous family had finally swung at her head like a baseball bat with rusty nails in it. Most of Naji's communication with the now 7th-division lieutenant had been limited to makeout sessions whenever she came by. Now, Naji was discovering how emotionally vested in him Kusajishi was. He heard her pour out stories over the late Zaraki Kenpachi, Madarame Ikkaku, and Ayasegawa Yumichika; all of whom had perished in the hollow attack that had nearly taken her as well.

What followed was an earnest conversation about their relationship - whether Yachiru and Futama had anything serious between them or not. Naji wasn't opposed to the idea, but it had been a bit sudden. He wasn't really sure what he saw in her besides the no-strings-attached kissing and occasional petting that he used to get, but those days seemed to be over now. That realization forced him to think that he might as well try to give their relationship more than that. Yachiru's confession - that he didn't seem to mind her less-than-womanly figure too much - had sort of given him a reasonable indication that she wasn't starting with much depth either (few people knew that Yachiru actually was post-pubescent, due to her diminutive size). However, it was also evident that Yachiru really only had two people left: her new captain, Head of House Princess Banzo Ichihime, and Naji; and Yachiru didn't even really know him that well. That was a lot to live up to (especially when compared to Banzo Taicho), but Futama couldn't really imagine not investing himself a bit more, considering that she was coming to him as her last man standing.

All this, to those who might be concerned as to the whereabouts of Kusajishi Fukutaicho, would have been rather fascinating, important, and interesting to explore. However, to those who were concerned with the day-to-day operations the defined the responsibilities of Naji Futama of the 1st division, it was trouble veiled behind a smokescreen of unimportance. For while Futama and Yachiru were deeply engaged and engrossed in honest, heartfelt, and much-needed conversation, the radar blip alarm on his senkai monitoring gate, which was chirping like a canary on fire, was going unheeded. At that moment, an unauthorized channel had been opened somewhere in the 5th division barracks. However, the young guard's attention was, perhaps with good excuse but not without fault, diverted - allowing one very mentally unstable Hinamori Momo to slip through the Dankai without anyone noticing anything.

-:-

Kyouraku Shunsui was coming upon his apartment, a little deflated after his three day vacation at the Session for Aristocracy. In previous years, he had been disappointed to leave behind the booze and whores and food and endless meaningless prattle, but was always the type to leave it behind him as he moved on to his next conquest. After all, there was no thrill of the hunt at the Session - no entertainment value in the spicy get-the-girl pursuit. There, everything was handed to you on a silver platter - well, a platinum one, anyway. The sensation of departing had always been a return to the normal skirt-chasing, booze-drinking adventures of life; where it was rewarding because there was actually minimal effort involved.

This year, however, Shunsui was deflated for another reason. The truth was that he missed Kiku. He would have much preferred to leave with her; say goodbye to the opulence and leisurely walk her home. Rantao Kiku was proving to be the hardest woman Shunsui had ever tried to get - because unlike the others, he wanted to earn her. Drinking with her in simple camraderie had been far more cherishable than anything he had experienced in a while. These three days, they had sort of been acting like an old married couple almost; hanging out and experiencing their surroundings together, getting drunk together. Sure, it was missing the whole marital fraternization, but that was sort of superficial - a surprising perspective considering Shunsui's history. The fact was, though, that Shunsui didn't feel like he was missing out on anything in life right now.

That was really saying something.

Unlocking the door and begrudgingly opening it with a sense of loneliness that he hadn't felt in a while, Shunsui wished that whatever it had been that had pulled Kiku out of the Session had been a false alarm. Apparently, it was obviously something, or Kiku would have come back. Shunsui supposed that if he had been a bit more responsible and carried his phone with him, he could have called her. Maybe it was time to start carrying his phone.

Hmm... I wonder. Maybe I could ask Kiku to sew me a pocket for my phone on the inside of my haori or something. I wonder if she would mind.

"Welcome back," Lisa said, surprising him. She was sitting at his kitchenette table.

"Lisa-chan?" he asked, startled. "How did you get inside?"

"You still keep the key to the back door under the rock in your garden."

Now he just felt like an idiot. "Oh."

"How was your romping at the big noble affair?" she asked with a slight mean-spirited taunt.

"Fun," he answered jovially, closing the front door. "Although, a different kind of fun. More wholesome this time around."

"So I hear," Lisa retorted somewhat bitterly. "Did Rantao-san have a good time?"

"I think so," he said pensively. "Although Urahara Taicho sent her on a task, so she had to leave early."

Lisa's face was still, and then her tone and tenor changed. "You like this woman, don't you."

Kyouraku dodged the not-really-a-question with a goofy deflection, putting his hands up in the air. "No 'hi, how are you?' Come, the very least is that I should put up some tea."

Lisa's eyes narrowed. "Shut up," she dismissed. "Answer my question."

Shunsui was surprised that she was so forcefully direct. "...You could say I do, yes."

She frowned. "What kind of answer is that?"

Kyouraku's own gaze became more intense as well. "Is there something you want to say?" he challenged. She was staking him out in his apartment for a reason.

Her scowl indicated he had touched upon a nerve, but she obviously restrained herself. "She's not tough like I am, Kyouraku Taicho. If you break her heart, she won't be able to put it back together so easily."

He was sincerely put off by the fact that she had called him by his military title, but remained quiet. He knew his simple silence would throw the ball back in her court.

"You better take her seriously."

"I do," he insisted.

She stood up from the table and walked past him to the door. "Ne, Kyouraku-san."

"Mmm?" he acknowledged, his eyebrow raising in curiousity.

"She's a good woman," Lisa said quietly. "Better than I was. For Nanao-chan's sake - don't screw up."

"I won't," he replied, but it was useless. Yadomaru Lisa had already quietly shut his front door and flashed far, far away.

-:-

Q toiled with the numbers, checking his equations and plugging in different values to account for different ranges and reactions. So far, he had found three errors in his initial formulas, but his convergence algorithm was slowly reaching the correct answer. He was disappointed with how slow it was - trying to introduce an orthogonal spirit construct into the blade was possible, and theoretically he could fit two more - but he was still going to try for one before he even considered two. If he failed, he could irreversibly damage his precious Hougyoku-infused copy of Genesis, and it would be exceedingly hard for him to recreate his baseline materials.

The problem was that there were so many to choose from. The incomplete omega register he had was about seventy entries, but even despite that, the options were tantalizing. He had wielded Laeveteinn before, but he didn't know if it was worth wasting a slot just to get the ability to manipulate fear. Sanders had obviously discovered that it doesn't always produce the desired results.

Some were such conditional powers that he didn't know if they would be practical. For instance, one of the omega registers let him find anything he wanted in the entire universe. That would be great for finding Morgan and feeding him his own testicles, but what would Q do afterwards with it? He wanted something more universally godlike than that. Omniscience was great and all, but Q felt like he already knew everything anyway.

"So many choices," he frowned out loud to his current dog. He had created it using his new zanpakutou as a means of trying it out. Unfortunately, he also discovered that Genesis had no means of killing anything. He stabbed the damn labrodor fifteen times before he realized the blade wouldn't draw blood. It was hard to be a god that couldn't kill anything. That damn shinigami beach ball was still breathing inside that briar patch, stuck in a coma or something.

That had forced him to figure out how to put another zanpakutou spirit into his sword. Hinamori's dual-axis zanpakutou had proven that it was possible for it to remain stable, so Q had some evidence that this was actually possible. However, possible did not mean easy.

He took a drink from his pina colada and went back to work.

-:-

_Earlier that day_

Nanao didn't know whether or not to be relieved or annoyed. "I suppose I should be happy I don't have to pay for his life insurance policy yet," she muttered.

Rantao looked at her aghast.

Nanao cut her off. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Fuwu is a pain in the ass, but I don't necessarily wish him dead. He's good at paperwork, so I suppose he has some value."

Kiku blinked. This was not the reaction she had expected when she offered to locate Nanao's missing vice captain with her zanpakutou. "So... what do you plan on doing now?"

"For the time being, nothing," Nanao shrugged. Rantao had come to the Command Central office in the 1st division compound when Nanao had lost signal on Fuwu's kido tracer. After Nanao notified Urahara, he suggested Nanao avail herself of his vice captain. "Maybe Fuwu dispelled the tracer himself in order to get past some barrier. Maybe he found someone important to talk to that put a kido barrier around them that interrupted the signal. As long as we can tell that he's alive, there's no point in speculating. I'll have you check back every twenty minutes and see if he's still alive, and whether or not there's been any movement in his location. We'll take it from there."

Kiku tilted her head in acknowledgement. It was certainly a reasonable set of assumptions. "Sounds like a plan."

"Yeah, well, in the meanwhile, I'm going to get some tea. Want some?"

"Coffee?"

"Sure, whatever," Nanao shrugged, leading Rantao into the small kitchenette off the main computer terminal. "So how was the Session?"

Rantao went on her guard, a bit surprised at Nanao's sudden switch into casual conversation. "It was... rather interesting."

"I hope Papa behaved himself," Nanao muttered.

"...He was a real gentleman, actually," Kiku answered politely. "He, uh, told me that you wanted me to have this," she added, fingering the simple amber teardrop pendant at her neck.

"Whoa - he gave it to you? For real?" Nanao laughed. "I didn't think he would."

That sort of hurt Rantao's feelings. "...Why?"

Nanao shrugged again as she placed tea bag in a mug and started to fill it from the kettle. "Because Papa is Papa. Anything that smacks of commitment tends to scare him."

I am either about to say something extraordinarily wise or extraordinarily dumb, Rantao thought. "Ise-san, can I ask you something?"

"Oh give me a break, call me Nanao already," she protested.

"Uh, Nanao-san, um," she stammered. She wasn't quite so comfortable with calling her that yet, but she supposed she would need to get used to it. Rantao tried to collect herself as she put the instant coffee and sugar into a paper cup. "...Does the idea of commitment bother you?"

Nanao, who was still trying to get off the hook for telling Shuu about Saya, immediately misread the comment as a jab at her current marital status (i.e. the lack thereof). "What are you asking?" Nanao replied sourly.

Aw nuts. Backtrack time. "I, uh, sorry - I mean that, does it scare you that Shunsui might actually be serious this time?"

Nanao did a doubletake as she realized Rantao wasn't talking about her and Shuu at all. "Huh?"

Kiku backed away meekly. "I, uh, know we sort of talked about it once. That... that you were okay if he and I became a serious couple. But I know that theorizing about it and having it actually happen are two different things."

Nanao shook her head to hurl away her dazed-and-confused look. "Wait - you mean, you think Papa and you might get _married_?"

"...It certainly isn't something either of us are ready to talk about yet, but..." Kiku paused. She thought about what had happened over the past few days, and the opportunity that he had to take advantage of her - but didn't. The fact that he could have pressed her the night after, or tried to coax her throughout - but that he didn't. He had every ample chance to play her for a throwaway fool - but he didn't. "...But I was just with him for a good three days, and - and I think he's really sincere. Right before he gave me this, he... he said he loved me."

Now it was the younger woman's turn to pause. Her father had a reputation of using the finest flattery to attract his prey, but Kyouraku Shunsui was not a liar. He had never lied to Nanao. Sure, there were some pretty hideous sins of omission, and some deliberately misconstrued statements - but whenever Papa had told her that he loved her, he had never lied. Kyouraku Shunsui was a player, but he took serious things seriously. "He... he said _what_?"

Kiku sighed and set down her coffee. "I... I didn't say the same," she clarified. "I - I don't know exactly how I feel yet. I need to trust him in order for our relationship to get any more entrenched, but he did a lot of things these past few days that have demonstrated he's not joking around. That means that I owe it to you, too, to let you know where things are going."

Nanao was taken aback. "I mean, it's your life, you don't need my approval," she denied.

Kiku tilted her head in disagreement. For once, she was going to say something right at the right time. "Actually, I think I do."

"I - I don't get it. Why?"

"...Because Shunsui-kun is your father, and that means that I'm going to be around. If you hate my guts, I want to know."

"I don't hate your guts! Where the Heaven did you get _that_ from?" Nanao asked, exasperated.

Rantao ignored Nanao's puzzling expletive. "I don't think you do, but that's not the point. The point is that I don't believe you're thinking this through. What if you and Hisagi-san have children? Would I be Grandma, or just Kiku? You don't need to have an answer now, but you do need to have the question in mind."

Nanao was about to retort that there was no way she would have children, but caught the words in her throat before they could escape. That was what she _used_ to think. Now, after having experienced the day-to-day life of a mother taking care of a baby - even though that baby had not nor would be hers - Nanao wasn't sure she could say that such a thing wasn't a life she might want one day. "...I don't have to worry about that now," she answered, although not with much conviction.

Kiku reluctantly accepted the circumventing answer. Ise could be surprisingly insecure sometimes. "I... I just think it would be foolish of me not to be considerate of your feelings."

Nanao sighed. "To be honest, Rantao-san, if you want to be considerate of my feelings, we can drop this conversation."

Kiku's feelings were hurt, but she backed off. "Sorry."

Nanao groaned. That wasn't what she had intended. "Look, all I mean to say is that you and I would have a far less awkward relationship if you stopped trying to think of yourself as an outsider."

Now _that_ surprised Rantao. "Huh?"

Nanao sighed. "I'm not an idiot. Even if I think Papa will crash and burn and fail with flying colors, at the very least I believe that he thinks he's really into this. Whether or not he can follow through is another story, but at least he's in the right mindset. And if I come into the 8th division office while you're drinking tea with Papa, you shouldn't tighten up because I've walked into the room. You act like you're one of my dad's throwaway girlfriends in front of me - walking on eggshells and being all apprehensive. Get over it. I'd much rather you just start _acting_ like you belong instead of _talking_ about it."

Rantao found herself exhaling a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her shoulders eased up and she began to relax, although she was still cautious. "That... well, golly, that was rather direct."

"For Hell's sake, you use the most bizarre speech, you know that?" Nanao teased, deliberately switching the tone and tenor to a harmless banter. "Where did you learn to talk like that? Did you get lost in some 1960s sitcom for a while, or do you have an unhealthy affinity for Disney movies?"

Kiku correctly picked up on lightheartedness of the switch. "Well at least I don't consider Charlotte Church pop music," she teased back, knowing of Nanao's puritan taste in opera.

"Oh don't get me started on that wannabe poser," Nanao fired back. "Even Fuwu can sing better than she can. C'mon, let's go see if he's still alive. I really don't want to have to call his next of kin, they're probably just as dopeheaded as he is."

Kiku laughed incredulously. Ise was something else.

-:-

Rukia followed Kuukaku into the 4th. Nee-sama was anxious; she had heard that Momo had awoken while she was out at the Session and wanted to get an update. Kuukaku had suggested that Rukia come as well. Hitamake had personally requested that Rukia come catch up with Momo and see if she could help her, and Kuukaku felt it would be good if Rukia came as soon as possible.

They went over to the information desk and were greeted by a medical officer receptionist. "How can I help you?"

Kuukaku's lip twisted upwards in annoyance. Like this really needed to be explained. "We would like to see Hinamori Fukutaicho."

The receptionist pouted. "It seems that she was discharged earlier today."

_"Discharged? !"_ Kuukaku exclaimed. _"What?"_

"Yes. I have the sign-off charts by Iemura San Seki."

"Well, that's not acceptable!" Kuukau fired back. "I want to speak to Unohana Taicho immediately!"

"I'm sorry, she's off for the week. You can make an appointment with Kotetsu Fukutaicho if you like, she's the commanding officer currently in charge."

Rukia's brow furrowed. "Kotetsu-san is back? I thought she was off?"

"She just started back on duty about half-an-hour ago, actually," the receptionist explained helpfully. "You can go see her in her office, if you like. She might not be available, though."

Kuukaku grabbed Rukia by the arm. "Let's go," she complained. "I want to hear why they didn't wait for my signoff."

Rukia sighed. Nee-sama was going to cause trouble again.

-:-

In a small town in upstate New York, a mostly-empty rural farmhouse enjoyed the quiet, soft breeze and cloudless sky. Behind its old green shutters and chipping paint, the house gently creaked in its own contribution to the soothing white noise that provided a peaceful, pleasant portrait of everyday life.

Except inside, where a middle-aged man was suffering through a phone call that was anything but pleasant.

"Lucy, fer 'eaven's sakes, I's nots wannabe hearin' one goddammmm shiitt 'bout yer money problums," Morgan yelled into the phone. His ex-wife was driving him batty. "Nos, I ain't sendin' yoos no check 'cuzz yoos thinks 'I's gots so much money I's kinna doos yoos a favuh fo' ol' time's sake', Loose. Sorry, buts I ain't gots no reason ta give yoos nuthin'!"

He rubbed his temples as the damn spoiled brat on the other side of the phone would just not shut up. "Loose - Loose! Listen ta me, now, Lucy, I's don'ts wants ta hears nuthin' 'bout yer sobb story anna hows yoos crashed yer latest toy, 'er fergots to pay yer credit card, 'er whatevuh otha stoopid thing yoos did, I's don'ts knows anna I's don'ts care, but - "

Morgan's phone call was savagely interrupted as the phone was torn out of his hand.

Twisting around, and Morgan turned his head to find that a shinigami had just hurled his cell right out the open window.

"Sounded like you no longer had interest in that conversation," the shinigami explained coldly.

Morgan recoiled in horror when he realized who it was. "...Hinamori... Ma'am?"

Her mismatched eyes locked on his face, trying to see past the sheen of his widening pupils. "It's me."

"Oh my Lord may God have mercy on yer soul," he swore, stepping closer to her slowly, as if it was an apology for jumping back when he first saw her. The mix of sadness and concern was evident. "What happened?"

Momo was still. "Q."

"Oh God, Hinamori Ma'am, I'm so sorry," he apologized, his face twisting in grief.

Momo noticed he had not looked away from her. Impulsively, she scratched violently around her eye, the scar tissue skittery and irritating. Even after she finished, and her face felt raw, Morgan was still locked on to her. She could see nothing but sadness in him.

"God, I's so sorry," he apologized again. "I - I's - "

"How can you look at me?" she asked him, her voice cold and black as a cast-iron kettle.

Morgan paused. The shinigami in front of him was a broken and devoured copy of the fine woman he had last seen. Her head was shorn, laced with lumpy red scars; her features were gaunt and haunting, and her eyes a cold dead gray. There was no spirit in this woman anymore. "...Yoos still a god, anna I's still yer 'umble servant - but also cuzz I's be a-hopin' thats yoos bees okays wit' me callin' yoos a frennnd," he said softly, almost confessing a piece of himself in the process. "Even iffa diss izz my fault, I's gots ta take ree-sponz-ibb-ill-ih-tee fer pullin' yoos inta this."

Faster than he could gather, Momo grabbed him by the collar, flung him around and slammed him into the wall. "And who says this is _your_ fault, Morgan? Why are you making this _your_ fault? It's _Q's_ fault, and I'm going to skin that bastard if I can - but I need your help, and I can't do it if you're snivelling at me!"

"Sorry, Ms. Hinamori Maam," he apologized. "I's unnda-stannd."

Momo was agitated, but she fought the urge to ask for a cigarette. It was better if she stayed off of them. She let go of his collar and gave him some breathing room.

"Ms. Hinamori Ma'am - uh, if yoos wants, yoos kinna stay here fer a while," Morgan offered. "...Inna case yoos feels likes yoos need ta bees aways fer awhile."

Hinamori breathed in, and then slowly breathed out. She paused to scratch an itch where her missing eyebrow had been replaced by a splotchy disfigured lump. "...I would appreciate that."

To her surprise, he put a hand on her shoulder. His voice was soft and worried. "...Can I... can I's sees whats he dids ta yoos?"

Momo stood still and held her face to Morgan. He tentatively reached out, and with two fingers, carefully traced down the scar on her head down her nose. It was a highly intimate gesture, and Momo tolerated it for reasons that she did not understand. His hand ultimately rested on her cheek, and his thumb traced under her slightly-too-small artificial eye.

The air was quiet, and for a moment, Momo could hear the breeze outside rustling through the trees. There was a calming stillness here, a certain feeling of a return to the past; where things were slower, simpler; happier. Staying here for a few days seemed like a better way to recuperate than her apartment.

Leaning forward, Morgan gave an apologetic kiss to the top of her head. "I's hurtin' fer you, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am. Q did yoos wrong."

"Sh," she hushed. She preferred the quiet. Instead, she buried her face in his chest. She told herself that it was because he was the only one there.

It was a lie.

Momo cried softly, feeling emotion for the first time in an impossibly long while.

-:-

Hitsugaya Toshiro surveyed the wreckage of the apartment in New York city. It stank of foul reishi, that pungent, twanging, cloying odor of saccharine murderous intent; like a killer who smiles a toothy grin and quips jokes while he flays your skin.

This was undoubtedly the apartment of that criminal, Quigley Quentin Yuim - and it was a total war zone.

Huge chunks of the wall had been blown away by something that had clearly fired spirit-infused blast shells. It look like someone had shot bowling balls through the walls, smashing cabinets full of dishes, massive bullet holes in the refrigerator that were even bigger than the remnants of shotgun shells, splintered tables and chairs everywhere that had been shattered like they were made of aging straw.

Toshiro could easily feel the trace of old reiatsu that lingered. It had been calm and collected and then thrown into a furious, frantic escape; leading into an escape hatch built into the floor. It was evident that Hitsugaya had correctly located the place, which was odd. He had been able to pick up the traces on Hinamori, but it was unusual for a human to have a distinctive reishi signature. Most humans had only a single amplicore of reishi, or the amount of spirit energy that makes up a single soul. It was extraordinarily rare for humans to have more than that. Even the most spirit-aware humans, like Kurosaki's friend Arisawa Tatsuki, didn't have more than five amplicores. Any more than that and they would start developing abilities, like Inoue and Yasutora.

Yet this vein of reishi was quite strong. It wasn't quite human, though - Hitsugaya could feel it mixed with a zanpakutou's reishi, which was odd. Most zanpakutou have only a fraction of an amplicore on their own; a zanpakutou with a detectable trace meant that it must have been charged with an unusual amount of energy. It felt like hundreds of souls had passed through here, waiting to meet a commmon destiny.

Either way, it was a dead end. Q wasn't here. The best he could do was trace down through the escape hatch as far as he could go and see where it led him. Toshiro desperately wanted to find him; find the man who nearly killed two people in his immediate family, Rangiku and then Momo.

Sighing, Toshiro hauled up the escape hatch found himself plunging into the darkness of the New York city sewer system. Lighting an orb of kido in his hand, Toshiro steeled himself and found the thread of reishi again. The hunt was on.

* * *

_Sorry the chapter is both late and short. Hopefully, I can return to a normal posting schedule. Thanks for sticking with me! As always, I love reviews, even if it's just to let me know you're still reading. :)_  
_-njx_


	47. Spoon Jammed Pistol

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_Like he did most days, Makahiro handed Hikaru a cup of tea as she sat down next to him on the small stone wall that made up the garden fence. She was clearly in a foul mood. _

_They had been close as long as he could remember. It was to be expected. As cousins, both of them were adopted by one shinigami and one human parent; and both had struggled with the loss of their human parents to natural aging differences. They were close enough that Hikaru had actually spoken with Makahiro about her androgynous condition, and he had confessed to her that he was afraid of his pending promotion to 8th division lieutenant because he thought he was too much of a wuss for the job. Ever since his mother, Kurosaki Karin, had died, they had spent a lot of time hanging out - simply because they weren't afraid of being judged by the other._

_She sighed loudly and let her shoulders collapse, breathing in deeply before signing loosely with one free hand. [Thank you, Hiro-kun, for being my only cousin who is actually normal.]_

_Makahiro snorted a weak laugh. Unlike his father, he rarely appeared smug; but he did now. It didn't suit his square head, pudgy nose, and wide eyes that were spaced too far apart. "Which other cousin is it this time?"_

_**[Both of them!]** she signed emotionally, gesturing by snapping her hand up in the air with two fingers displayed prominently._

_Makahiro frequently wondered whether the nature of sign language required highly emotional body language in order to convey the proper meaning, or whether Hikaru was just naturally passionate. The only basis for comparison that he had was Shihoin Tokine, the robotic, mechanical 4th division lieutenant; who Hikaru looked to as a mentor in many ways. Of course, comparing Hikaru's sign language to the completely dry Shihoin Fukutaicho was a pointless excercise in trying to determine whether it was the language or the individual. Given Hikaru's love of music, Makahiro suspected it was a personal trait. "What did they do now?" he asked, pausing to push some of his grayish-brown hair out of his narrow eyes. His epicantic fold was rather heavy, and he had intense Asian features that made him look fairly different from both of his parents. Unlike Hikaru, whose facial features and hair color vaguely resembled a blending of her parents, it surprised no one that Makahiro was adopted. _

_Hikaru set down her tea, and then Makahiro struggled to keep up with her furious gesticulations. Even with the gift of tongues, translating profanity wasn't an exact science, and it was compounded by the fact that some parts of sign language had weak equivalents in spoken word. In any case, he was able to interpret that Hikaru was saying something anywhere from 'Kohei-kun is a sadistic bastard' to 'what a blood-drinking, boar-fucking shit-licker'. Suffice it to say, if Hikaru's mother ever caught her making those kinds of hand movements, Hiro was pretty sure that Rukia-sama would put 'Karu in handcuffs for the rest of the day. "Whoa, slow down - what happened?"_

_Hikaru sighed again, spat on the ground for emphasis at her overall distaste for what occurred, and then started signing again; albeit a touch more civilized this time around. [So Kenpachi Sensei wasn't available to train with us today, so he asked Kitsune-kun's father to sub for us.]_

_"Komamura Sensei?" Kitsune's father, Komamura Saijin, was the previous Kenpachi who had retired to become the dean of Shinou Academy. He was a legendary swordsman who had trained both the current Kenpachi (Kohei's father, Hisagi Shuuhei), and Hikaru's mother, Kuchiki Rukia. Kenpachi Hisagi and Aunt Rukia-sama were the only two shinigami who had graduated from his training - the only two shinigami whose swordsmanship was considered refined enough to try and study the Unohanan Art of the Sword. Supposedly, Kuchiki Byakuya had also studied the Unohanan Art of the Sword, but from his grandfather; not from the original master herself. _

_[Yes, Komamura Sensei,] she clarified. [So Uncle Kenpachi isn't there today. And of course, when that fucker's father isn't around...]_

_"...Kohei's natural charm comes out," Makahiro finished for her._

_The 11th division lieutenant, Hisagi Kohei, was the worst kind of bully. He was one nasty-ass bastard, a guy who loved fighting not because he enjoyed the adrenaline, but specifically because he loved the thrill of kicking your ass and then rubbing it in your face. He was scared of only two people - his parents. Even most of the lieutenants were leery of him, as he had attained his position as 11th division vice captain by beating the utter shit out of the previous lieutenant, Iba Tetsuzaemon. Hikaru was one of the few lieutenants who went toe-to-toe with Kohei on a regular basis as part of her tutelage under her Uncle Kenpachi, and when Hisagi-sama wasn't there, Kohei could get downright mean._

_[You have no idea what an asshole he is!] she continued. [So we're sparring, and I get in a decent shot off of a good parry and punch him in the wrist, knocking his katana loose. At swordpoint, he's forced to surrender.]_

_"Which he hates, even though you two are evenly matched," Makahiro nodded. "But especially in front of outsiders."_

_[Exactly! So when I turn around to go back to the starting line for the next match, the bloody bastard pantsed me!]_

_Makahiro's mouth dropped. "He did what?"_

_[That's right! That jerk yanks my hakama - and then my panties! - down to my ankles from behind!] Frustrated, Hikaru slammed her teacup back down onto the stone wall. It was miraculous that it didn't shatter into a zillion pieces. [Right in front of Sensei's class, my 13th division patrol unit, and the 11th division seated officers! Ugh, I wanted to **kill** him!]_

_"Wow, that's - that's - that's just awful," Makahiro groaned in sympathy. "Do you think anyone - I mean, well - "_

_[I don't think so,] Hikaru said, although not very convincingly. [It's hard to tell unless - ]_

_He put his hand on her shoulder to interrupt her so she didn't have to undergo the extreme indignity of completing that sentence. "What did you do?"_

_[Oh, I was pissed,] she stared, wide-eyed. [I went straight to Nanao-sama and told her what he did.]_

_Makahiro exploded in laughter. "Oh god, he's going to get it baaaaaaad."_

_[Damn straight,] Hikaru harumphed. Hikaru's aunt had her own means of dealing with her son. They would be far more effective than anything Hikaru could do._

_"So what did Sako-chan do to piss you off?" he asked before taking a sip of his tea._

_[Oh that prissy bitch,] Hikaru signed in more of a grumbling manner than an explosive one. She then tucked a small lock of her reddish brown hair behind her ear to reveal a sparkling emerald earring._

_"Whoa - earrings! Since when?"_

_[I got my ears pierced earlier today,] Hikaru confessed sheepishly._

_"Really? Wow - that's - very, uh..."_

_Her eyes narrowed to seething slits. The look she gave him needed no hand motions for his brain to register the words. [And how exactly do you plan to finish that sentence?]_

_He backtracked. "Um, what I meant to say is, uh, that, uh - it's very decisive of you. You, uh, don't tend to do girly things."_

_[I shave my legs and armpits, don't I?] she frowned at him grumpily._

_"How the hell would I know?" he grumbled defensively. "Too much information, okay? Sheesh."_

_She sighed and looked away from him, annoyed, but not really annoyed at him in particular. [I showed them to Hisako-san. She just stared at me with that could-care-less glare and said that they were too feminine for me. Then she walked off like I was nothing! Damn snooty bitch.]_

_"Ah, she's just jealous," Hiro shrugged. "Let it go."_

_[Jealous? Of me?] Hikaru asked incredulously. [What in the world would the illustrious Kuchiki Hisako-san be jealous of me for? She's a shinigami prodigy, the head lieutenant, destined to become the first female Head of Kuchiki House, headlines at the Shinigami Women's Association annual musical, and there isn't a single male in all of Soul Society - you included, and don't you give me that look, yes, you too - that doesn't go through a box of Kleenex thinking about what 'Sako-sama' would look like in a swimsuit! What in the world could she possibly be jealous of me for?]_

_Hiro smiled as Hikaru's raving was interrupted by a voice from behind her. "Ne, 'Karu-chan."_

_Hikaru turned her head around to see Banzo Vojiro standing behind her on the other side of the fence. He was carrying a large sack and looked like he had just come back from training himself - he was still sweaty and his uniform was all wrinkled and dirty. She stood up and bowed demurely, being the most polite informal response she could provide. In more formal settings, she would salute or even painstakingly sign his name letter-by-letter, but that would have taken too long. Hikaru mostly signed in JSL, but since the 'V' in Banzo's name was not native to Japanese, Hikaru would need to switch into ASL and (badly) sign-letter his name in English. Suffice it to say, bowing was easier._

_"I heard about what Hisagi-kun did to you today."_

_Wonderful, she thought. Just lovely. Fantastic. Why don't I just go ahead and brush my teeth with a chainsaw. [Um, yeah.]_

_"What he did was awful," Vojiro said, pushing his blond hair out of his silvery blue eyes. "If anybody says anything about it, just let me know and I'll take care of it, alright?"_

_She smiled weakly. [Um, thanks,] she signed, a bit shy and embarassed. It was one thing to have someone stick up for you, but she would prefer it if the whole thing was forgotten about as soon as possible._

_"Look, I'm sorry but I gotta run. Take care, okay? And, oh - beautiful earrings, by the way. They match your eyes really well. Good choice," he smiled, and then dashed off._

_"And **that**," Makahiro commented smugly to himself (but loud enough for Hikaru to hear), "is why grumpy little Sako-chan is jealous."_

* * *

_"Any one of you losers so much as looks at me funny, I **swear** I'll gouge your eyeballs out and **shove 'em up your ass."**_

_~ Lieutenant Hisagi Kohei, reporting to duty at the 11th division seated officer's meeting the day after he pantsed Kuchiki Hikaru;_  
_after his mother (Ise Nanao) made him show up in nothing but eyeshadow, lipstick, garish clip-on earrings, a lacy bra, high heels, and a pair of women's panties that read 'Proud to be a Tranny'_

* * *

Isane rose to her feet the moment an irate one-handed captain entered her office, flanked by Rukia (apparenly also a captain now), who was rolling her eyes. Apparently, 'the honeymoon is over' was an expression that Isane was going to suffer quite literally. "Can I help you, Shiba Taicho?"

"Where the goddaman fuck is Hinamori-kun, and why did Iemura-baka discharge her?"

Isane tried to remember to keep her professional demeanor. "Why don't you take a seat while I pull up her file?" Isane offered, trying to defuse things with feigned bureaucracy. It was Isane's special tactic for dealing with just about everyone. She had learned over the years how incredibly effective it was.

Kuukaku slammed her fist on a desk. "My vice captain had a sword stabbed through her face, and you discharged her?"

Isane sat down at the desk and pulled up Hinamori's file on the screen, trying not to show her alarm. She had been away when all of this had happened, and was trying to play catch up. With the details in front of her, Isane was treated to a disastrous tragedy and an equally miraculous recovery. "...Hold on," she said softly, reviewing the mountains of details written in the file.

Torn frontal lobe, punctured temporal and parietal lobe, severed optic nerve, myealthenic sheathing ruptures, scarred brain stem, thirty-seven hairline and chip fractures to the eyebone and skull, bone chips puncturing blood vessels, kido-inflamed infection due to improper healing procedures at time of incident... Isane's stomach scrunched in an implosion as she read a file that described the worst kind of cranial trauma someone could receive. It was followed by mountains of tests, every single one of them showing normal brain activity, regular breathing, proper heartbeat and circulatory regulation, no loss of lucidity, zero impact to either gross-motor or fine-motor skills, normal eating and gastric reflex - it was like nothing had happened. Isane even looked at video of one particular test where Hinamori was shown being able to slice an apple in mid air with her zanpakutou while reciting multiplication tables. Iemura had ordered it because he, too, couldn't understand how she was functional; but there she was on video without single physical or intellectual impairment.

That was just simply impossible.

"...Shiba Taicho, Kuchiki Taicho - I can't explain it, but Hinamori Fukutaicho seems to have passed all physical and mental evaluations with no sign of permanent injury. Many of these tests have Unohana's signature on them. According to the file, she had also asked eleven times if she could be discharged. We had no basis to keep her."

"Then where the hell did she go?" Kuukaku shouted, pissed as hell.

Isane breathed deeply, just trying to keep calm. She was used to getting yelled at by people by now, and her more timid nature never really surfaced anymore. Thick skin was easy to come by when you were a vice captain in the 4th. Isane was comfortable in the infirmary and held her poise, screaming captain or not. "It says here that Iemura San Seki ordered her a rickshaw home to her room in the 5th division barracks."

Kuukaku relented. "Fine," she muttered, accepting that, at this point, Hinamori wasn't under the 4th's jurisdiction and therefore they couldn't help her. Kuukaku sighed in frustration. "Ne, Kotetsu-san."

"Yes?"

"Do you think that any of this makes sense?"

Isane looked back at the file on her computer screen. "...No, I don't."

Kuukaku pulled out her cell and dialed a number. "Unohana-san? ...Yeah, it's me. I'm kidnapping Kotetsu-san."

Rukia sighed. _Oh brother._ Nee-sama was going to get her into trouble.

"Why? 'Cause none of this makes sense, that's why," Kuukaku grumbled into the phone. "I want her to give Hinamori-kun an evaluation firsthand. ...No, I don't care. If Iemura's so good, then he can run the place while I take Kotetsu-san! ...Yeah, sorry, Unohana-san, but I don't care. Unless you personally blessed her exit from the 4th, I don't give a rat's balls if Iemura says she can be discharged."

Rukia physically cringed at Nee-sama's vulgarity. After three days of seeing Kuukaku walk around like a reasonably dignified Head of House, the profanity was a bit jarring.

Isane didn't really want to upset things in the 4th too much. 3rd Seat Iemura had already been filling in for her while she had been on her honeymoon. It was hard enough to come back after being gone for only a few days. She didn't think that postponing her return to the daily grind was for the best. "Uh, Shiba Taicho?"

"Shut up!" Kuukaku barked at her. "Hinamori-kun is your friend, right?"

"Yes, but - "

"Then you're coming with me! Now shut up and let's go!"

Rukia interrupted. "Kotetsu Fukutaicho, you might as well. Hinamori-san could use some moral support. Besides, Nee-sama doesn't ever take no for an answer. It can't be helped," she begrudgingly admitted. She really shouldn't be doing this. The only reason Rukia even considered it was because she had promised Hitamake she would talk to Hinamori, and because Rukia had been a woefully delinquent friend lately. Keeping up with Hinamori was not the easiest relationship - they just weren't in the same parts of their lives anymore - but Rukia could have tried harder to do her part, and the guilt was weighing down on her now that something had happened. If not for that, Rukia likely would have protested to this whole mess. Instead, she found herself feeling obligated to go along with it, and if it was embarassing, well then, that was penance for being so self-absorbed while Momo was going through a pretty ugly rough patch.

Isane confessed to herself that she would never believe this unless she saw things firsthand. There was no way Momo should have survived that kind of injury. "Alright," she agreed reluctantly. She texted 'Taro to let him know she would be home late, and then called Iemura.

_I smell trouble,_ Itegumo warned her as she hung up the phone and got ready to leave.

Me too, she answered. I have a feeling we're going to meet a monster of a kind we've never seen.

_Can I say something slightly disturbing?_

...I know what you're thinking, Isane sadly admitted.

Itegumo agreed._ The most dangerous monster might just be the patient._

-:-

Toshiro's journey through the underground was an enlightening trip. Everywhere he crossed, there were dead things - rats, cats, beggars. Every time he passed the stench of rotting flesh, the vein of reishi grew stronger.

He's eating souls, Toshiro realized. Like a hollow.

The path took him for at least thirty minutes, possibly more. It twisted and turned, and without the trail of reishi, he never would have found where he was going next.

On the other hand, hollows only tend to eat human souls, and animals don't really have souls the same way people do; Hitsugaya reflected. It's more like he's eating away the life energy.

Why? What does he plan to do with it all?

-:-

"I's, uh, don'ts knows iffa yoos needs ta sleep 'er nuthin', butt'choo kinna use diss room 'eeerr iffa yoos wants."

Hinamori hesitated. The room was simple but hospitable; blue sheets on a mattress on a wooden bedframe, an oak desk and chair; a closet. "...This is fine," she forced out, not really wanting to talk but also not wanting to be ungrateful. Morgan was someone who didn't deserve her scorn. "...Thanks."

"Sherr," he said gently, trying to respect her general preference for the quiet atmosphere. "I's, uh, don'ts knows if yoos needs ta eat when yoos in yer natcherrall ghost form, buts iffa yoos needs, I's kinna gets yoos sumptin' -"

"I can't eat normal food," she explained tersely. Momo was disinclined to conversation, but she felt it was necessary to clarify in order to be a respectful guest. "I will take care of my own meals."

"Uh, okay," Morgan sighed, trying to digest the fact that he was hosting a shinigami. "Ann, uh, tha bathroom's down tha hall, iffa yoos needs thats sorta thing. There's a shower an' soap anna ...stuff," he finished, realizing that saying 'shampoo' would be inappropriate. "There're summa disspozable razuhs in tha medissinn cabb'nit iffa yoos wants, too," he added, trying to be thoughtful, although he realized afterward that it was a terribly awkward thing to say. "I's, uh, sorry's since I's don'ts havva no women livin' heers, so I's sorry iffa I's be a-missin' sumptin'."

Hinamori nodded.

Morgan could see that her suffering, battered face was actually grateful, and so he relaxed a bit. "Iffa yoos be a-needin' summ-thin', jussa ask. TV's yers iffya wannit, make yerself at 'ome."

She didn't respond this time, and he took it as a cue to gently close the door and leave her alone.

Hinamori enjoyed the tranquil, peaceful sounds of a breeze ruffling simple white curtains. She liked it here. It was far away. Far away from the madness and sadness, this house out in the middle of nowhere had a warm, soothing feel to it. It was a haven that she needed. Morgan was nice to let her stay here. She suspected he didn't mind the company, either; even if her company wasn't much.

After several minutes of standing and savoring the lack of insanity in her life this very moment, she sat down on the bed, unsheathing her katana and setting the old scabbard that once belonged to Tobiume down on the desk.

Momo didn't miss Tobiume. She felt like she should, but she didn't.

Lying down, she realized that she was very tired. Momo was fairly low on reiatsu and hadn't really rested very much before she came here. She was in no condition to pick a fight with anyone right now. Momo could fight okay with a sword, but it would take a few days to recover enough for her to properly defend herself with kido, which was more to her liking. For now, she would sleep. In the morning, she would awake and forage for food. Finding purely reishi-based food was nearly impossible, but most vegetation that bore fruit, nuts or seeds had a handful of produce that had naturally grown into the 5th dimension. She had seen some cornfields about ten minutes away, and Hinamori was positive she could find a few ears that had grown along a 5th dimensional axis that would allow her to gain nourishment from them. At the very least, corn-on-the cob would be reasonably good sustenance considering how limited her food options were. All she needed was basic reishi fuel; she wasn't expecting anything gourmet. If she was very lucky, she might find a rabbit that projected into the 5th, and she could eat that - but Hinamori didn't count on it.

Hinamori looked at her zanpakutou. She could feel it tingle in her hands. She liked that feeling. It was a sensual, mildly pleasant feeling; one that made her insides twitch with a subtle reaction she couldn't quite describe. Impulsively she felt an urge, and she felt no reason to dismiss it. Bringing the katana's crossguard to her lips, she formed a V with her tongue and licked her Savior along his sharpened edge from hilt to tip. With her tongue, she could feel how truly sharp it was; how it was a perfect edge, with no nicks or imperfections. Hinamori could tell that her new zanpakutou appreciated this physical affection, so she repeated it, and then repeated it again.

Feeling at ease - or, at the very least, self-soothed - Hinamori drifted off to sleep, her body curled around her bare sword.

-:-

Toshiro emerged from the NYC sewer system into broad daylight. The vein of reishi here was much weaker, as the exposed air made it easier for the 'scent' to dissipate; and the throngs of passerbys mixed up the trail. Toshiro spent nearly an hour trying to find the weak strand of complex life energy, but it eventually took him down a series of smaller streets and into a small fashion district area in Manhattan's Lower East Side.

Here, he began to pick up additional reishi signatures that he had not previous felt anywhere in the sewers. Hiding himself in the shadows, Hitsugaya was cautious as he traced a few wisps of reishi until he reached the door of a tailor's shop.

It was covered in police tape. Inside were at least a dozen members of a SWAT team, along with an enormous blonde hulk of a man in a black suit and shades - and all of them had turned their head to look out the shop window at the same time.

_Ksa_, Hitsugaya swore. They can sense my reiatsu, he figured. He hadn't been careful to keep it hidden, since most humans couldn't see him anyway. It's not like this was Karakura.

The door began to open, and he leaped back and unsheathed his sword. In response, a SWAT member by the door trained an assault rifle on him. A standstill ensued, as neither moved nor said anything.

Hitsugaya looked in through the shop window, and could see the giant gesturing for him to come inside. The SWAT member aimed to the floor and slowly backed out of a combat stance.

Something weird is going on here, Toshiro thought. Tentatively, he lowered his nodachi, but kept it out in case he needed to defend himself. Through the window, he could see their reactions - calm faces and lifted tension, with the hulk removing his sunglasses - so he took a gamble and slowly came inside.

"Welcome, Blackrobe Captain," the giant said in Ukrainian. "You speak my tongue, yes?"

"Yes," Hitsugaya replied in Ukrainian, which was badly stained with a Chilean accent. He had never been called a 'blackrobe' before, and he found it an odd choice of title despite its reasonably logical origin. "Who are you?"

The enormous individual in front of him was one of the beefiest human beings Toshiro had ever seen. His cubic skull possessed a forehead that sloped up and out, with a big, wide square chin and a nose that looked like an airplane rudder. His eyes were beady and inset, with a vibrance of a man who knows from experience that today he need not fear for his life. "I am Agent Johnson, of the United States Division of Paranormal Defense Matters," he said, citing the title of the department in badly-rendered English.

"...The NATA," Toshiro accused.

"That was the division that served Japan," he answered. "I am based in Texas and work for the USA."

"You're the same as far as I am concerned," Hitsugaya grimaced.

"Then you sit in poor judgment," Johnson answered. His voice was deep and burly, kind of like his barrel chest. Yet in his native tongue, he spoke with a highly refined elegance. He was clearly a very intelligent individual. "My partner and I made it expressly clear that we supported the demolition in Doverfield, and actively worked with you blackrobes to undermine Smith."

"I don't believe you," Hitsugaya answered.

"Ask Goddess Hinamori," Johnson countered. "She will vouch for us."

Hyorinmaru was up in striking pose within subsecond timing. _"What did you say?"_

His outburst was met with an equal threat of over a dozen guns pointed at him from the SWAT team. Johnson seemed unaffected, though, and motioned for everyone to relax. "We are not at war, you and I," Johnson said calmly. "Can we all calm down?"

"How do you know Hinamori?" Toshiro's eyes were burning slits of frozen passion. _"Tell me!"_

Johnson held his cards close to his chest and played a safe answer. "My associate had met her in his youth, and has spoken with her from time to time whenever they seem to cross paths. Like I, he can see blackrobes. He as an admiration for her great accomplishments ever since Goddess Hinamori sent his grandfather to the other side when my partner was a child."

Toshiro knew he was missing key details. "When did you talk to Hinamori?" he demanded forcefully, his temper freezing in intensity.

"Almost two weeks ago by now. Although Morgan ate dinner with her since then."

_Dinner?_ What the...? "Who the hell is Morgan?"

"My partner," the colossus answered calmly. "Hinamori contacted him. She was looking for Q."

"_Hinamori_ was looking for _Q_?" Toshiro asked, bewildered. "Why?"

"For hurting one of her friends," Johnson explained. He was relaxed and nonthreatening (which was hard for a man who radiated the word 'threatening').

This was making Hitsugaya's head hurt. How did Momo get in touch with these agents? How did she know that they would have the information she would need? Did her captain Shiba know about this? That her vice captain was talking with agents who were, at the very least, associated with an organization that declared war upon the shinigami? What the hell was going on? "Listen to me, whoever you are. Q carved out Hinamori's eye with a sword, and I'm holding you personally responsible unless you can convince me why I shouldn't send you to oblivion!"

Johnson's demeanor suddenly fell sullen. "My condolences, Honorable God of the Afterlife. I am sorry for her suffering."

"Your apology is worth nothing," Toshiro seared through grit teeth. "I want answers, not excuses."

Johnson hesitated. "Morgan has a very long history with Soul Society," he began. "As does Q. They were once brothers in an era long ago."

Toshiro paused, debating whether or not he should call bullshit. He found himself inhaling a healthy dose of skepticism. "What does that mean? And what does it have to do with Hinamori?"

The blond giant hesitated, and then ordered his men to leave the tailor's shop. "You traced Q here, so I know you are looking for answers. I am also looking for answers, but some I already have. If you put your sword away, I can tell you that which I know."

Despite his healthy skepticism, Hitsugaya sensed a legitimate aura of honesty, and so he re-strapped Hyorinmaru to his back. "Who are you, why are you after Q, and why does Hinamori know you?"

Johnson breathed in and out several times. "Tell me, Blackrobe Captain - have you ever heard the story of the Three Saints?"

-:-

Kotetsu Kiyone charged into the 4th division's lieutenant office with a beaming, bright curiousity. She was so excited that her sister was back from her honeymoon - she wanted to ask her all the juicy details. Not that she really believed she would get any, but she was excited for Isane and had missed her while she was away.

With a jubilance that could only come from the bright and cheery big-boobed blonde 8th division off-duty lieutenant, she busted open the door. "Welcome back, Neesan!"

And... the room was empty.

"Huh?" Where is she? Hmm... Maybe she's not back yet.

Kiyone found the receptionist. "Hey, did Isane-neesan get in yet?"

The receptionist frowned. It seemed like she would be able to help no one today. "She did, but left immediately on order from two captains. You just missed her - she just left with Shiba Taicho and Kuchiki Ojotaicho. They were going to go to the 5th division to visit Hinamori Fukutaicho, who is supposed to be recovering in her apartment."

Kiyone was marginally worried but more significantly intrigued. She had known about what had happened to Hinamori, and it was tragic. On the other hand, at least Hinamori was _alive_. The stinging pain of losing Kotsubaki Sentaro still burned in Kiyone's chest whenever she thought about it. Despite all of their spats, and how they had spent years trying to one-up each other, Kotsubaki had been one of Kiyone's closest comerades. He was her nakama. She would have gladly died for him, but that idiot one-upped her and went and died without her there to avenge his worthy ass.

She missed him on the good days. On the bad ones, she still heard his voice calling her a slow-witted peabrain. On those days, she felt like he was right. She should have been there to save him.

Kiyone had made peace with death. Her faith taught her that death was just rebirth; and he would have a chance to do good on Earth once again. She was a fairly religious woman, as she had gotten into religion over the past decade. Like everything else, Kiyone didn't go halfway - she dived in headfirst and never looked back. It was her biggest flaw but also her biggest strength. She was among a handful of shinigami ever to achieve bankai before reaching a century in age. On the other hand, she was also one of the only shinigami ever to be overlooked for captaincy despite possessing bankai. At the very least, Kiyone was mature enough to appreciate that she wasn't ready yet. She hoped one day, her ambition would straighten her out, and then she could move on to that part of her life. In the meanwhile, the past ten years as a lieutenant of the often-dull 8th division had given her a chance to grow into it.

Still, she hadn't had a chance to say goodbye. It hurt. Sentaro had been one of her best friends.

Despite these sorrowful thoughts, what intrigued Kiyone was that her idol, Kuchiki-now-Taicho-sama, was wrapped up in this. Kiyone owed Rukia her life, but more importantly, she owed Rukia her career and her future. Kiyone would still be a sniveling, snot-nosed brat if it weren't for the absolute ass-spanking beating that Kuchiki-Taicho-sama had given her, followed by the opportunity to prove her repentance. Kuchiki was a serious woman who dealt in serious things. Kiyone could understand Shiba Taicho barging into the 4th and stealing away Isane-neesan for some reason, but that didn't seem like the kind of thing that Kuchiki-sama would do.

Alrighty then, Kiyone decided. As usual, she was too nosy for her own good. Faced with far too much free time on her hands now that Yadomaru Lisa was managing the library, Kiyone flashed off towards the 5th. She was going to catch up with Shiba Taicho, Kuchiki-Taicho-sama, and Isane-neesan, and find out what was going on.

-:-

Q was pleased with his decision. Jones would have been ecstatic, if that old fucker was still alive.

Hmmm... it was 'Jones' now, right? Q couldn't remember. Jon, Joan, Jonas, Jonah, Jonnu, Jean, Jin, Jones - it had been way too many lifetimes for him to keep track of whatever name he had last been known by. Jones was always the dumber of his two, uh, whatever you would call them. Jones made no sense at all. Q hated them both, but at least Morgan made sense. Jones was just a dumbass.

Still, the idea was intriguing. Q had heard of Shishi-O before in myth and legend, but it had never come through any of Sheldon's original notes. He had only learned about it from the most recent list of omega blades Sheldon had given him. It was probably a very old zanpakutou, too. Supposedly from the time of Harumia's age, that old goddamn fucking hag-bitch-witch suck-shit-pussy-wipe crap-of-a-shinigami-captain-that-he-would-get-the-last-laugh-on.

I wonder if Morgan still prays to Harumia, Q wondered. Actually, he probably never prayed _to_ her, just _about_ her. Not like it matters. Hmmm... maybe he prays about that Hinamori chick now. Not that praying does any good. He can pray to me when I'm done, though. It still won't do him any good, but at least it will make logical sense.

Q tested the blade. Reishi stabilization was surprisingly normal. He had expected a bit more tension of the internal spirit matter, but it seemed pretty strong now. The wakizashi had transformed into something a bit longer now; he supposed it was what they would call a kodachi. He couldn't enter the inner world of the sword yet - Q had yet to bind his creation to his own soul - but getting in the second blade had ultimately been easier than he expected. It had taken him hours to work through the formulas, but when he tried infusion this second time around, it had worked beautifully on the very first try.

He wondered if Genesis had been lonely. Maybe she was busy banging Shishi-O all day now that she had company.

Of course, Q realized that he was being presumptuous. To ascribe a masculine nature to Shishi-O and a feminine one to Genesis had been a matter of personal perception. Scientifically speaking, they were neither gender. Although from what he had read, zanpakutou had a long history of having relationships with other zanpakutou.

Perfect, he thought. They're just like me - they can be in love with themself!

Now, can I go for a third one? I think I could, since two was so easy... I have plenty of time, too. It's not like they're ever going to find me in here.

"Woof!" his labrador barked, sensing a change in his master's demeanor

"Oh, hi!" Q thought out loud. "You know, I totally forgot about you. I bet you're hungry. You've probably been waiting for a while."

"Woof?"

"Yeah, me too." And then he lopped off the dog's head. "Fantastic," he muttered. It was about time this damn sword could kill something. You would think he could have figured it out before infusing another zanpakutou spirit into his hougyoku-infused asauchi, but _nooooo_, damn prissy Genesis can't kill jack shit.

Alright, I need to test out this thing, Q figured. Enough goofing around. He picked up the epsilon blade and twirled the hilt around in his hands in a flashy manner. It felt good; it was properly balanced. The wooden hilt had begun to turn to a bright copper sheen, and the blade seemed to be lined with some sort of unusual blend of tin and platinum. An odd metal for a sword, he thought; but it was better than silver like the pure Genesis copy had been.

Reciting the incantation, a dimensional split ripped open from the 7th dimensional axis of time, and a great massive hand came forth. It seized the briar-cocooned cousin-of-a-walrus shinigami, his ludicrously blue cape flapping out from under him. Q couldn't see what happened next, but he did hear the sound of crunching bone and spurting tissue, and the blood that ushered forth from the rift was, in Q's estimate, a reasonably large enough amount to correlate to the shinigami's size.

"Well, that was certainly effective," Q hummed to himself. This was going swell!

-:-

_"Shit,"_ Nanao swore.

Rantao sheathed her zanpakutou. Whatever happened to Fuwu, he was no longer alive or in any known location. She had queried Occulus ten different ways. Find me the current lieutenant of the Kido Corps: nothing. Find me Fuwu-san: nothing. Find me a shinigami with a blondish Fu-Man-Chu and who weighs over four hundred pounds and who wears a blue cape, yellow tights, and ugly curled-toe wizard shoes: nothing. "There's no trace of him."

Nanao paged the 1st division. They had a death of a high-ranking shinigami officer in Basement 19 of Central 46. There was something seriously wrong.

-:-

Kuukaku was swearing like a sailor when she literally broke down the door to Hinamori's apartment. All it took was one side kick, which evidently could have taken down the Giza pyramids if she ever decided to do such a thing.

"Aw, _FUCK_," Kuukaku swore. "Hinamori-baka-baka, where the hell are you?"

The apartment was so empty that Rukia and Isane wondered if Hinamori still lived here. They could sense residue of her reishi everywhere, especially the bed. It was obvious that she had recenly slept in it. Yet there was nothing else - the walls were bare, the floor was spotless. Hinamori wasn't a slob, but she wasn't an anal retentive neat freak; and the room seemed far too austere for that.

"PTSD," Isane reasoned out loud.

Rukia nodded. "Throwing away everything and trying to forget what can't be forgotten," she spoke softly. Rukia understood that well. She had spent a very dark period of her life hiding from her pain and suffering rather than dealing with it. It would have nearly ruined her if not for Ichigo's trust and Ukitake Jushiro's patience, who had coaxed her into realizing that her destiny wasn't frozen by her past. "She was here until recently."

"I sense traces of a senkai gate in here," Isane added.

Kuukaku swore again, her eyes widening in fear. "You think she was kidnapped again?"

Rukia shook her head. "...No," she reasoned. "I don't sense any struggle."

"Me neither," Isane nodded. "What about you, Shiba Taicho?"

"Arg, I'm too agitated to read these damn subtleties," Kuukaku muttered, throwing up her hand in frustration. "That's why I brought you level-headed people!"

As if to twist some irony into Kuukaku's last choice of words, Kiyone showed up at the door. "Shiba Taicho? Kuchiki-sama? Isane-neesan?" she asked as she came in, looking around. She had never been close with Momo and had certainly never been to her room in the 5th division barracks, but she would have imagined something more... flowery. "Where's Hinamori Fukutaicho?"

"Not here," Kuukaku grumbled.

"Duh," Kiyone answered like a smart-ass. "I can see that. I mean, where did she go?"

"Throught a senkai gate," Rukia reasoned.

"Escaping," Isane offered. "It's a clinically normal reaction for someone in her situation."

"Any idea where she would go?" Rukia asked.

"No idea," Isane sighed.

"Well, then, let's just go after her!" Kiyone suggested.

"Through the Dankai?" Isane asked, bewildered. "But how in the world could you do that?"

"Eh, if you spent enough time in the 13th, you learn how to trace flows in the Dankai, no big deal," Kiyone dismissed.

"But the time dilation - "

"So you get pushed off by an hour or so," Kiyone shrugged. "If you know what you're doing, it's easy to avoid getting thrown off."

Kuukaku screamed in frustration. If only Hinamori-kun had come to her. If only she had trusted her captain. Kuukaku would have been there for her, if only she hadn't been such a stupid stubborn moron. "God_damn_it, Hinamori-baka, _you dumbass!_" Then she pulled Firefly out of the sheath across her back, stuck it in the air, and opened a senkai gate. "Rukia-san, Kotetsu-neesan, find Hinamori-baka's reiatsu and trace it," she ordered, and then charged into the purple void.

"Hey! Wait for me!" Kiyone called, and chased in after them. Kiyone wasn't one to miss a party.

-:-

Morgan's eyes snapped open as he heard shuffling. It was the middle of the night, and he had been sleeping in bed. He began to reach for his gun on the nighttable, but his attention was interrupted.

"Ssh," Hinamori hushed dismissively, almost derisively, even. She lifted up the covers and crawled into bed with him, spooning up against his back. "Just go back to sleep."

Morgan stopped reaching for his pistol, but hesitated as the young goddess snuggled up against his bare shoulder blades. She was evidently still in uniform, which he could feel as she wrapped her arm around his stomach. After fifteen seconds in which he had refused to breath, he heard her quiet snoring up against the back of his ear, and as simple as that, she was back asleep.

Nervous in a way that he had not been in a long while, he let the air escape his lungs as he tried to go back to sleep. He had no idea how old she was, but she looked like he was old enough to be her father. She was obviously lonely and seemingly very vulnerable. On the other hand, she had brought her sword into bed with her. Morgan could feel the cold chain-wrapped hilt pressing against his kidneys. It was slightly uncomfortable, but he had slept in far more uncomfortable positions before.

"Go to sleep, Morgan," she whispered, surprising him. He had thought she was sleeping, but she then adjusted her katana so it was no longer pressing into his back.

He did his best to comply, and thus he quickly fell back into slumber.

* * *

_We are getting there - thanks for sticking with me, despite the slow updates lately. Please take the time to leave a review - I miss hearing from you. :)  
-njx_

**_Next Chapter: _**_The Butcher of Bleach balances on the brink._


	48. Rundown Chase on the Trails of Pursuit

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_Hisagi Kohei couldn't understand it. He had just stabbed her in the shoulder with his shikai, Vindictus. The serrated falchyon was supposed to triple the pain of every wound it inflicted; most people couldn't even stand if he nicked them in the knee._

_Hinamori, however, didn't seem to care. In fact, she was smiling; almost laughing, even. It was a dark, foul, evil chuckle; almost sinister but more certainly insidious. With one hand, she held the hilt of her sheathed katana. With the other, she grabbed Vindictus by the middle of the blade, shuffling her hand up and down its sawtooth edge until her hands were seeping blood and shredded skin, as though she was participating in some sick masochistic masturbatory ritual._

_Kohei could feel the sensation of her touching his soulcore. It was like Death's Hand from Beyond had seized him - and that was when Kohei realized he had picked a fight with the wrong shinigami._

_"Soak in blood, Zankokuseishin," Hinamori instructed, her hand on hilt. Kohei couldn't see the zanpakutou's transformation in its sheath, but it must have not mattered. With a mealy, rotting smile that made Kohei's spine nearly snap from the shivering, she voiced words that sounded like grating metal. "You like to dish out pain and suffering, don't you, Hisagi-kun?"_

_Kohei, in an attempt to silence the madwoman, thrust his sword deeper into her shoulder._

_She did nothing but cackle. "But what you didn't know about my shikai, Hisagi-baka, is that your zanpakutou is useless against me - because the more I suffer, the stronger I get!" And then the hand that had been on Hinamori's hilt flashed forth and struck Kohei straight into his chest, just above the solar plexus. It instantly shattered his breastbone, every single one of his ribs, caused multiple internal organs to rupture, and sent an inordinate amount of blood to cough straight out the 11th division lieutenant's throat._

_If it wasn't for the fact that Hinamori had cast an emergency life-support spell, Kohei would have certainly died. Thankfully, the top brass of the 4th - Captain Kotetsu Isane and Vice Captain Shihoin Tokine - were there in less than two minutes. Nanao and Shuuhei would have lost their only child if it wasn't for Hinamori's mercy. When Nanao asked her about it (knowing that the 5th division lieutenant was not prone to that particular trait), Hinamori had only a chilling comment:_

_"What good is suffering if you die too quickly to learn from it?"_

_~ Approximately two hundred years from now_

* * *

_Hikaru was really uncomfortable._

_Given her mother's position as a captain and her unique medical condition, she was eligible for personal care from the 4th division captain. Most of her life, that had been Unohana Retsu. However, given Unohana's recent retirement to take care of her ailing mother, Hikaru found herself with a new physician for the first time. The brand-new captain of the 4th, Kotetsu Isane, was extremely competent and highly respected - Unohana had done an excellent job training her replacement, and there was no one better suited for the position._

_Of course, it would have been better if her first appointment with her new doctor was for something a bit less embarassing, like a sprained wrist or something else she would have likely received in her swordsmandship training. Her first teenage physical was not exactly the optimal time for a forced switch of physicians._

_She really didn't have any complaints - Kotetsu Taicho was very polite, professional, and respectful; and in truth, she was more friendly and less intimidating than the previous captain. Still, having a new person knowing about her androgyny was awkward._

_"Kuchiki-chan, as you know, I've asked your mother to step outside for this appointment. I know you've traditionally had her accompany you, but it's important that at your age, we respect your rights as an individual and that we support your right to privacy. I therefore want to provide you with no doubt whatsoever that everything we discuss, no matter how insignificant, is protected under strict medical privacy laws, and that you have the right to withhold information from your mother or father if you so choose, as long as it does not immediately endanger your life or long term health. By law, I am obligated to tell you this and ask you that you understand. Do you understand that you are provided this right to secrecy?"_

_Not sure of where this was going, Hikaru nodded meekly._

_"Okay. First of all, I am going to perform a physical examination and then review with you my findings and observations. Then, I am going to ask you a series of questions that you are not obligated to answer. I ask not because I wish to invade your privacy but because the information you could provide could aid in my diagnoses and suggestions for future care. However, at no time are you required to answer. Do you understand?"_

_Hikaru nodded again. Like Unohana Taicho, Kotetsu was explaining everything that was going to happen in advance. It didn't put her at ease, but it prevented her from feeling like she was lost in a maze that she couldn't get out of._

_"This is your sixty-year-old physical exam. This is typically the time when we start checking the average plus for signs of adolescence. Aging varies tremendously here in Soul Society, and the onset of puberty varies even more greatly. We only start tracking physical progress at this time so that we can monitor it and compare our findings to later physical exams, which help us detect if there are any abnormalities. At this age, however, we are generally unlikely to find anything out of the ordinary._

_"In your case, our examination is intended to cover some additional fact-finding objectives. Development in most young teenagers is stimulated by hormone production in the ovaries or testes. Due to your phsyiological absence of primary sex organs, it is expected that you will remain underdeveloped for quite some time because your only source of natural hormone production is your pituatary gland. That means that part of our objective is to determine if your hormone levels are too low, and if so, what we want to do about it._

_"If any treatment is necessary, this could result in three potential courses of action: you may choose to take estrogen, which would encourage female development; you could take testosterone, which would encourage masculine development; or you could do nothing for the time being and revisit this decision later. Part of my objective in today's examination is to provide you with as much information as I can so that, if you want, you can make an informed decision - although I will likely recommend that we simply wait and see. Do you understand that you have the right to make a decision on your own, that you also have the right to make a decision in consultation with others, and that you have a right to not make a decision at all?_

_[Wait,] Hikaru signed. [You mean I might have to decide whether I want to be a girl or a boy?]_

_Isane put her hand on the troubled girl's shoulder. "You are not required to make any decision. I just want you to understand one of the potential ramifications of today's examination."_

_Hikaru breathed in deeply. She was clearly struggling internally. [Okay,] she finally signed. [Yeah, I understand.]_

_"Alright, I'm going to take your height, weight, measurements, reflexes, and other biometric data. I'm going to ask that you get undressed before we begin that part. Afterwards, I'll ask you to get dressed and we'll sit down and talk for a bit."_

_Hikaru agreed, and Kotetsu pulled the curtain back. She undressed, feeling highly sensitive and self-conscious, and then stepped out from behind the curtain onto the scale. Kotetsu Taicho was very respectful and professional as she took Hikaru's weight, height, centimeters at shoulders, bust, waist, hips, and inseam. She then motioned for Hikaru to sit down, and she tested her reflexes using a doctor's mallet and inspected her eyes, ears, nose, mouth, breathing and pulse. The next part was considerably more personal, as Hikaru was instructed to lie down and submit to a pelvic examination. At the end, Kotetsu handed her a cup and asked her for a urine sample and then to get dressed._

_Kotetsu Taicho left while Hikaru provided a sample in the attached bathroom, and then put her Shinou Academy uniform back on. A nurse came to pick up the sample and then Kotestu returned only seconds afterwards._

_"Okay, now I'm going to explain to you what I've discovered, and then I'm going to ask you a few questions. Are you ready?"_

_[Yes.]_

_"First, regarding your absence of vocal chords. From the note in your file, there was the possibility that we could grow you an artificial voicebox and proceed with implantation surgery. This is still a possibility, but your wind passage has grown in such a way that this would be a rather complicated surgery. It would also provide you with a fairly large Adam's apple, which you may not want if you continue to see yourself as female. My recommendation is that you do not consider undergoing this surgery, at least not at this time; but it is your decision."_

_Hikaru nodded. She liked the fact that Kotetsu was asserting her right to choose her own gender. Hikaru found that simple acknowledgement to be very comforting - she felt like Kotetsu actually understood her. Unohana was never quite as direct about it. Maybe switching doctors wasn't the worst thing in the world. [I'm okay right now. I... I like the way I am.]_

_"Good," Isane chirped politely. Self-esteem is important. "Second: as part of a normal onset of puberty, you seem to have started growing some hair in your underarms and pubic region, as well as some lighter hair on your legs. This is all quite natural and normal and there is nothing to be alarmed about. In your case, it is a particularly good sign as it means that your body is naturally producing proper growth hormones, despite your unique condition. What you may find more important, however, is that you seem to be undergoing some preliminary physiological changes as part of a normal onset of female puberty. Your hips have widened by two centimeters, but your shoulders have not. Further, it seems that while you do not seem to be developing any mammary tissue yet, your areolae seem to be larger than what would be normal for an average male your age. At this point, there is significant evidence to indicate that you are, from a purely anatomical standpoint, most likely female. If you wish to live your life as a male, which is a perogative that you are free to explore, you will need to undergo hormone therapy to change course. Otherwise, I would not recommend additional estrogen as you seem to be progressing better than expected for your unique condition."_

_Hikaru found herself holding her breath. Eventually, she let it out. [Okay.]_

_Isane paused. She sensed that some counselling might be wise. "How do you feel about that?"_

_Hikaru hesitated. [I don't know.]_

_"That's okay," Isane reaffirmed. "You don't have to know how you feel right now. The important thing is that you are aware of the current facts."_

_Hikaru shrugged. [I guess so. It's not that I'm upset or anything, it's just that... I don't know. I guess I never really expected to know.]_

_"You should be aware that, by law, you have the right to withhold this information from your parents."_

_Hikaru hemmed and hawwed for a minute. [No, you should tell them.] Hikaru was close with her mother, and for these kind of things, wanted to get her opinion; even if Okaasama was a bit biased._

_"You would prefer that I tell them?" Isane clarified._

_The auburn nodded. [Just call Okaasama in when we're done, and tell her. I... I don't want to be the one to tell her. She can tell Otousama.]_

_Isane wasn't sure what was going on in Hikaru's head, but she knew it was better to move on. "I understand. In any case, you can think about it at your leisure - it's certainly a lot to absorb, I'm sure, and there's no reason to think that everything has to sort itself out in a day. I'm going to continue with some questions, is that okay?"_

_[Sure,] Hikaru signed indifferently. Her mind was elsewhere._

_"I'm going to remind you that all your answers are strictly confidential and do not leave this room. Okay, so: are you (or do you plan to be) sexually active?"_

_Hikaru's eyes looked like her head exploded. [What! ? No! What in the world would I do? I don't have either set of parts!]_

_Isane allowed a small, professional chuckle to escape. "I know, but that doesn't mean you aren't engaging in other acts of sexual expression. That kind of activity is perfectly normal for people your age, even younger; and it is my responsibility to ask so that I can inform you of dos and don'ts."_

_[Don't worry,] Hikaru signed enthusiastically in protest. [I've got nothing going on and I don't plan to.]_

_"Okay, that's fine," Isane confirmed. "But if that changes, I encourage you to come back and talk with me about it. I am not here to judge your actions, only to help you make informed decisions. But as a secondary point, if you have inclinations to engage in any kind of sexual activity, it may be wise to consider this as a factor in deciding whether or not you wish to remain androgynous, in which case we can discuss that in context of a wider discussion."_

_[Next,] Hikaru signed, not really worrying about whether or not it was rude. She wanted to get off this question as soon as possible._

_Isane didn't take it offensively. "You may find the next question embarassing. I want to assure you that it's a normal question that we ask all patients your age, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to."_

_Hikary turned bright red when Kotetsu Taicho finally dropped the bombshell of an inquiry. So red that her face looked like a cross between a tomato and a rare steak. [I, uh, may, umm... prefer not to answer.]_

_"Okay, that's fine," Isane answered nonchalantly, trying very hard to treat the question as though it was just like any other. "Next - do you believe that you may have discovered any new allergies?"_

_Hikaru shook her head, relieved that this last question was normal. It seemed way out of place, though, given the rest of the interrogation so far._

_"Good. Do you have anything else you want to ask me?"_

_Flustered, Hikaru hesitated. This had been highly awkward. Not necessarily bad - she actually thought she preferred Kotetsu Taicho to her previous physician, as hard as that was to imagine - but it had still been highly awkward. [So... I guess this means I'm a girl...?]_

_Isane answered the pointed question with a delicate gentleness that was a true marker of her unmatched skill as captain of the 4th. "You are you," Isane answered carefully. "And the rest is for you to decide."_

_I am me, Hikaru pondered deeply. I am me, and the rest is for me to decide._

_It was a mantra that would stay with her for a very long time._

_~Roughly sixty years into the future_

* * *

_"I'm gonna kill Abarai Taicho. He asks me to deliver these three letters, right? One to go to Kotetsu Taicho, another for Kuchiki Taicho, and the last one is addressed to Shihoin Fukutaicho. BUT WHICH FREAKING ONES?"_

_~ 9th division lieutenant, Hikifune Yoshino, muttering under her breath about two hundred years from now;  
__expressing the commonly confronted confusion generated by Kiyone, Isane, Byakuya, Rukia, Tokine and Zarina_

* * *

Morgan awoke the next morning to find his bed otherwise unoccupied. Unsure of what that meant, he put some clothes on and went to relieve himself. Entering his bathroom, he found it slightly disturbed - someone had obviously used his toothbrush, because it was left in the sink.

Well, then. She sure is making herself at home, he thought.

Upon heading down the hall, he could smell food from his kitchen, and he heard the washing machine going. Guessing that she had figured out how to wash her clothes, Morgan was relieved that she seemed to be settling in. Using his toothbrush was bit much, but he could forgive her for that.

Turning the corner, he could see Goddess Hinamori through the doorframe. She was sitting at the table, eating what appeared to be a plate of steak and corn. She nodded to him in a perfunctory fashion, and resumed eating. She must have stopped five times to scratch her eyebrow and scalp in the few seconds that he was standing there. Her katana was sheathed and in front of her, immediately in reach. Morgan didn't blame her. If she was still holding Kyouka Suigetsu in that blade, then he wouldn't want to let it out of his sight, either.

"Say, yoos wants maybeez summa cor-tuh-zone kreem 'er summthin' fer yer itchin'?"

She set down her corn. "...I'm fine," she answered, and then cut into her steak. She was wearing his white cotton bathrobe. It was a bit too big on her, so she had rolled up the cuffs. He thought it was a vaguely Japanese look, although she had never struck him has being particularly Japanese despite the fact that he knew it was her primary language.

He let it drop. "Summa good eats yoos gots dair," Morgan said politely as he took out some bread from the fridge and popped two slices into his toaster.

"...There is more meat in the oven, and more corn on the stove," she said dispassionately, trying to be a proper guest. She didn't feel like being polite, but she tried really hard to be nice.

"Thankya, Miss, buts I's a creetchur o' 'abit anna I's gonna just make-a myself summa toast wit' jamm."

She gave no indication that she cared.

"Uh, yoos wants summ coffee? Er, tea, maybes?"

"Water," she replied tersely, although not rudely. She didn't feel like explaining the whole shinigami food issue to him all over again. Water was the one thing in the World of the Living that was always in the 5th dimension, so she knew she could drink it. If he made her coffee or tea, she would likely only taste the water, anyway.

"Sherr," he grinned, and handed her a big mug full of water from a special filtered-water tap on his kitchen sink. She took it politely (or as politely as she seemed capable of mustering) and set it down next to her plate.

Morgan quietly proceeded to make breakfast. It was a little uncomfortable - he wasn't sure if he was playing proper host or not - but hoped that he would get a feel for things the longer she stayed. She had clearly been traumatized - to start with, Goddess Hinamori had always seemed to hover near the edge of losing herself. Now, however, she was more catatonic in demeanor than anything else. It was a sullenness that could only be described as dead. Nothing like the woman whom he had eaten dinner with only recently.

He thought of the only other Death God he had ever been fortunate to interact with at length. Harumia had been a complete snapdragon of a personality; vivid and vivacious and bossier than anyone he had ever met. She had been quirky, and was also prone to bouts of titular melancholy. Morgan had only met her once, but that meeting had unalterably changed his course of life. She had that flow and spark that said things were going to be done the way she said they would be, or else. Morgan had not been surprised when he found himself praising The One God Over All for the powers that had been bestowed upon the angels. Harumia the Melancholy, the archangel who had architected his destiny, was very different than Goddess Hinamori, though. For one, Hinamori was not an archangel, although he knew from Watson that she was relatively close to that celestial achievement, at least as far as her place in the pecking order was concerned. But they were different in far more important ways. Harumia had always been so self-assured; so insistent that her understanding of the universe was correct. Hinamori's repressed depression was only a reflection of her lack of hope or belief in anything greater than suffering.

It was a flash of insight that hit him like a nuclear explosion, and it was a terribly sad observation for him to make. He wondered what drew him to her fate: was it because he believed in her superiority; a hand of God, a messenger commanded with the role to fulfill the acts of Fate? Or was it merely because, for the first time, Morgan had the opportunity to give back to the gods who had made his life meaningful? He didn't know the answer to that question, and like many of his theological quandaries, it plagued him in the back of his mind.

The bald woman looked at him with an intense glare, an almost derisive glower full of distaste for him. "Don't you have work?"

"Nope," he smiled. "I's on vaykayshun dis week, akchually. Thisseer's my quiet place, wheres I's like ta enjoy summa peace'n'kwyett."

She said nothing. With an indifference, she resumed eating, neatly cutting her steak into squares.

"Din't know I's hadd any inna my freezurr," he thought out loud, gesturing to her plate.

"You didn't," she replied, and Morgan could detect the faint trace of a smile.

-:-

Kuukaku, Rukia, Isane, and Kiyone came through the senkai gate into a patch of rural farmland. Among the browning grass and rustic, rotting fences; the backdrop of cornstalks was overpowered by the cloying, ferrous smell that made Kiyone instantly gag. Moments later, she was throwing up over a fence.

The scene was barbaric. Blood and bits of bone and putrid flesh were scattered in a thousand directions. The young fawn had been gruesomely dissected with about as much precision as a shark's maw. Human-like bite marks in what was left of the animal's hide were incongruous with the cleanly severed throat; as though someone had slit open the young creature's gullet and sucked the lifestream straight from the jugular. The legs had been sawed off and could not be found, and what was left of the body had been violently stabbed dozens of times. The maggots writhed in a feast of the remains, and the army of flies buzzed with a plague-like apathy.

It didn't take long for Kuukaku and Rukia to start gagging as well, although their stomachs held. Isane, who was far more innoculated than the others, was yet still aghast at the wild display of gore that had been left onscene. The deer's eyes were not a vision for the faint of heart; most of the jaw's teeth had been knocked out by some sort of cudgel, and one of the ears had a stick violently jammed in it.

It was beyond inhumane.

Kiyone threw up again, her stomach wrenching beyond her control. She had spent many years taking care of her husband (long before they had any kind of romantic relationship, when he had been sick with tuberculosis), but that had not immunized her from the butchery that had been splayed before them.

Kuukaku and Rukia's green faces had subsided to a mere nauseous ghostly palor as Isane began commenting. "Hinamori-san was here," she said, pausing to let Kiyone's wretching stop so that she didn't have to speak over it. "I, um, think we can safely diagnose PTSD, even in absentia."

"What the hell happened?" Kuukaku asked, agitated but far too nauseated to yell. "Why?"

Isane squinted. "An odd singularity," she said while studying the carcass. "This deer has a reishi component. It's rare - more common in small woodland creatures that have significantly higher birthrates - but it happens every now and then that you get a spirit-aware animal. The legs are gone, and the flank and shoulders are cut; so it's reasonable to think that she may have used it as a food source. Food for us shinigami is hard to come by here in the World of the Living."

Rukia had never seen such a ghastly scene in her entire life. The sweet, sickly smell and the buzzing flies began to take hold of her, and she joined Kotetsu-the-Younger in her over-the-fence emissions. Pausing to wipe her mouth and gather her wits, she didn't turn around to re-face the slaughter. Instead, she commented with back turned. "I have a hard time believing Momo-san could do this," Rukia said, pausing to choke back more vomit.

"I don't," Isane sighed. "Not after what she went through."

Kiyone held back a choke in between her cyclic regurgitations. "How the hell could Hinamori have done this? She only left Soul Society a few hours ago. This looks like - " *hurk* " - it's been here a couple of days already, at least." A dry heave forcefully finished her commentary.

Rukia's eyes widened when she realized what had happened. "...Oh no," she gasped.

Kuukaku realized it to. "We lost time in the Dangai," she grumbled. She swore loudly. "We didn't lose a few hours, we lost a few _days."_

Rukia sighed at the stream of sailor's profanity that followed. "Isane Fukutaicho, how bad is it?"

"I would guess between two or three," Isane said, glaring at Kiyone with a look that easily said 'I told you so'.

"We need to find her," Rukia said. She was beginning to feel lightheaded. The stench of blood was just sickening. Rukia had experienced plenty of blood before - she had certainly come back from Doverfield drenched in the stuff - but when her adrenaline wasn't pumping, it got to her. Maybe it was the site of seeing something so innocent suffer something so heinous. Maybe it was just the squirming maggots. Either way, the urge to hurl was pretty potent.

Kuukaku had wished she went easy on the sake before going to visit Momo in the hospital. Hinamori-baka, what the hell happened to you? "I agree. Let's go. You, Taller Kotetsu - take us there."

At that moment, the familiar screech of hollow could be heard. All four shinigami grumbled.

"Obligatory hollow attack," Rukia and Kiyone said aloud in unison, not particularly wanting to move with their queasy stomachs quivering. Although neither of them were still in that division, the recitation was an old 13th habit that never seemed to go away.

"This sucks!" Kuukaku began, but then put her hand to cover up her nose as the fetid smell began to affect her. Again. "Kotetsu-san, deal with it!" she shouted, and then ran over to the fence to partake in the most recent national shinigami pasttime.

"Me?" Isane asked. "But - "

"They gave you a lieutenant's badge last I knew, right? Go kill that thing while I upchuck what I had to eat for the past three days! That's an order!"

Isane sighed. "Yessir," she complied with a faint touch of sarcasm.

_Neesan, do you even remember the last time we fought a hollow in the World of the Living?_

No, Isane answered. But we did our part to defend the hospital pretty well back during that recent invasion, right?

_Don't worry, I think we can handle it._

You _think_?

_I think, yes._

Itegumo, are you serious? You '_think_'? I don't want to hear that. Just because we're in the 4th doesn't mean we can't fight a few hollow!

_I know, but -_

No buts, Itegumo, you are going to do this!

_Well, it was just a matter of speech -_

SHUT UP AND FIGHT, YOU FROZEN CLOUD OF RAIN WATER! she yelled inside her inner world, axing through a hollow mask like it was made out of cheap plastic.

_Uh, not to be a smart-ass, but was that supposed to be an insult?_

Isane put a point-blank _Hado #31_ through a hollow's chest. You embarass me on this mission and I will personally make Kiyone babysit you.

_Okay! Okay! Let's go! Let's go, then!_

-:-

_Earlier in the week for the Dangai travellers, but the next morning for those already in upstate New York_

Hinamori scraped her mostly empty plate into the garbage. She had eaten a surprisingly sizable breakfast, given her initial expectations; and she could feel her reiatsu humming nicely. She was still very low on spiritual energy, but she had enough to defend herself if it came to that.

Placing the empty china in the sink, Hinamori proceeded to the laundry room, where she had washed her clothing. As expected, her guess had worked: the bleach she had thrown in the wash couldn't even touch her reishi-based uniform, but all of the blood splatter had been neatly washed away since that was all the bleach could get to. Her bleached black uniform was now perfectly clean again. She removed her shihakusho, hakama, obi, taibi, and undergarments from the washing machine and shifted them to the drier, where she set it on the highest heat cycle for the sake of expediency.

Unsure of what to do next, she returned to the kitchen, where Morgan was pouring the remnants of his coffee pot into a thermos. "Kinna getchoo summthin'?" he asked jovially.

For some reason, his pleasantry didn't grate her ears. "...Something to read."

"Sherr, I's be-a gladd toos," he smiled, and headed out of the kitchen.

Momo followed him into a library of some sort. On the wall, she could see numerous documents of accomplishments. She didn't recognize most of them, but they looked very impressive. What struck her was that his approbabtions were far more international than she would have thought. A suma cum laude diploma from West Point, which she recognized from her dinner with him. A Congressional Medal of Freedom. An Israeli Medal of Valor. A Military Medal for Gallantry from Ireland. The Canadian Victoria Cross. A Greek Order of the Redeemer. His sixth-degree blackbelt in judo, and a fourth-degree blackbelt in akido. Morgan also had a Secret Service Director's Award of Valor on his wall. An Olympic gold medal for the 25-meter rapid-fire pistol, decorated with a US flag.

On second look, Momo realized that some of the awards must have been for previous generations of his family. She had remembered that he was the fourth generation with the same name, which made sense as some of the awards on the wall were from over seventy years ago. Others, like the West Point diploma, were more obviously his.

He, of course, had paid no attention to any of these astounding decorations, and simply plucked a selection of fiction and nonfiction books off a shelf. "I's sorry, buts I's only gots stuff 'n English," he commented, still searching.

"...That is fine," Hinamori stated flatly. She preferred to read in Japanese or Korean, but she had no other choice but to watch TV. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to watch any of that sickening crap people called entertainment. Sparkly teenage emo vampire shit. Oh please.

He handed her four books. "I's don'ts knows iffa they's be ta yer likin', buts at least these aren't full o' sappy shit," he grinned. "I's hadda feelin' yoos wun't go fer that."

Morgan was surprised by her subtle smile in response. "'A Brief History of Time', 'Exodus', 'London', 'The Immeasurable Ocean'..." she recited out loud. Each book was certainly weighty, at least in content if not in physical form.

"Ennythin' else I's kudda 'elp yoos wit'?" Morgan asked. He noticed that even when her katana was tucked through her belt (well, in this case, the belt of his bathrobe), and even though she was carrying a sizable stack of books, her hand never left its hilt. Heh heh, he thought to himself. We're one and the same - always keep your finger on the trigger, because you never know what could come next.

"...No," Momo answered with a brief hesitation. Without further comment, she receded to her room.

Morgan sighed. He wished there was something he could do, but he knew that he couldn't. He was just a man, and she was a god; one of the many angels of the universe that circled mankind. She was beyond his reach.

Perhaps that was the lesson that Harumia had wished to teach him. Maybe paradise is always beyond reach. Maybe the point is that it is not the destination, but the quality of the journey - that paradise was meant to be reflective rather than existential. That was a value that Morgan knew he believed in, and that Jones had always despised. It weighed upon him, for despite the eternal separation between his sinning soul and the goddess who had taken shelter here, he felt that it was still within in his mission to help her.

The futility of the idea remained with him, as did the hope that he could overcome it. Attempting to actually enjoy his vacation, Morgan returned to his kitchen tasks before he would put on the football game that he had recorded. He already knew the results - Packers again - but he had heard it was an amazing game, and it had been forever since he had last watched one. Shortly thereafter, he showered, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, and was about to go to the sitting room to watch TV when he smelled something delicious from the kitchen. It was empty this time, but the table was not.

A bowl of fresh, piping-hot popcorn had been laid out nicely on the table, with a stack of napkins right next to it.

Morgan shook his head with an incredulous smile. Maybe he could help her after all.

-:-

Hinamori saw the note slip under her door. It was a single sheet of printer paper. On it, the words "Thanks for the snack" had been written in thick black sharpie.

Momo scratched at her face, eyebrow, and scalp. With an appreciative smile that she was glad no one could see, Momo returned to her book.

-:-

Q was patiently doing a dry run of his third infusion. He was pretty sure he couldn't fit any more than that, but as far as he was concerned, a third infusion was just a bonus. He didn't personally think that Astryx was all that it was cracked up to be, but it appealed to him more than any of the other options for the sake of expediency. Two other zanpakutou of divine qualities, Occulus Omnispectivus and Clara, would have provided him with godlike know-everything powers; but unfortunately they were both highly incompatible with his current Genesis/Shishi-O hybrid. He had considered Joyeuse - the morality-twisting blade that had been behind a major shinigami revolt a few generations ago - but while it appealed to his personal view of the universe, it wasn't as practical as Astryx was.

Calibrating his equipment, his test run produced a bit more reishiological resistance than he expected. He checked on the soul resonance numbers, and realized that he had forgotten to account for the constanht in integration. Reviewing his formulas again, he found the missing variable and went back to his simulation testing, trying to deduce the actual constant value.

Soon, Q figured. Soon, he would find that saintly bastard and make him eat his own words.

-:-

Yamamoto slammed his staff on the ground. "Hitamake Fukutaicho!"

_"Hai!"_ he barked.

"What Ise Shosho and Rantao Fukutaicho have discovered is a sign of potential calamity," Yamamoto ordered. He knew that the Hougyoku was in Basement 19, and so he was immediately willing to mobilize a sizable force. "Assemble Kuchiki Taicho, Banzo Taicho, Abarai Taicho, and Kenpachi Komamura immediately! We will march into Central 46 and demand access to the crime scene!"

_"Hai!"_ Hanzo confirmed. "Soutaicho-dono, should the captains bring any of their lieutenants?"

"Warn them that only those prepared to fight the likes of Aizen should accompany them. The others are to support their divisions in their captain's absence."

"Yessir, Soutaicho, sir!" Hitamake acknowledged, and darted off to make arrangements.

"Rantao Fukutaicho!"

_"Hai,_ Soutaicho-dono, sir!" she trembled, but tried hard to hold a proud stance.

"Report immediately to the 12th division Command Center! You and Urahara Taicho will command the tactical support effort. Ise Shosho?"

_"Hai,"_ Nanao nodded.

"You will come with us to Central 46. In the meanwhile, inform Shihoin Taicho, Kyouraku Taicho, and Ukitake Taicho that they are responsible for defending Sereitei in our absence. Any other captains should continue with their regular duties but be on standby."

"Yessir," Nanao replied, and proceeded to make arrangements.

-:-

The 9th division captain lightly punched Hisagi in the shoulder. "Ready, Fukutaicho?"

Shuuhei didn't know what was going on, but he had been a vice captain for long enough to know it was time to roll out. "Always, Taicho."

Renji smiled his punk-ass toothy grin. "You know that this time, it could be a whole other Aizen. Did you know that's what they're saying?"

Shuuhei paused. "Really?"

"That was what Ise said," Renji shrugged. "You still on, or are you reconsidering?"

Hisagi sat up and pushed his chair in. "Tch," he snorted. Nan-chan always finds a way to delay the inevitable, doesn't she? I can't believe the crap she'll go through to get out of telling me about Saya. Sheesh. "Give me a break. If it's another Aizen, we'll be back in time for lunch. Let's go."

-:-

Ichihime was partially nervous and partially eager as hell. She couldn't wait to join a mission as a full-fledged captain. The haori for political purposes and all was great, but her heart was shinigami first and nobility second. She was ready.

Yet, Ichihime hadn't just matured as a shinigami. She had matured as a woman - from a girl and into an adult. As battle-ready as she was - and the idea of storming Central 46 right after she had basically cracked the lock open in the Session for Aristocracy made for a sweet, sweet treat indeed - she knew that there was something even ahead of being a warrior. She had learned something important from her father; the person who she simultaneously despised yet admired for remembering what was actually important. Ichihime could no longer act alone, without care of anyone else. Ichihime intuitively realized that she now had a scope of concern bigger than her own. She didn't have a family yet, but she had a fiance - and she had to remember to open up the gates of her life and start including him in it, because whether he was a shinigami or not, he was going to be a part of her future.

She owed it to him. Even though Ichihime was confident in her abilities, and even though there was only the remotest of chances that she wouldn't make it home, she would never forgive herself if something happened to her and she never had the chance to talk to Adame first. Reaching for the phone, she dialed the Nikayui Family. It didn't surprise her that he was the one to answer the call. "Adame-kun?"

"What's up? Are you okay? You sound worried."

"I'm fine," she dismissed, sincere. "I just wanted to talk to you before I left on a mission. To let you know I'm thinking of you."

"That sounds surprisingly vulnerable of you," he teased. "I thought the Princess of the Banzo House feared nothing."

"Oh shut up," she snapped affectionately. "I'm trying to be considerate. If I'm going on a mission, you should know."

"It _is_ considerate of you," he acknowledged. "And in all seriousness, thanks for the call. I'm sure you'll be fine. I love you. Come home safely."

"Yeah," she smiled, reassured. His simple instruction - 'Come home safely' - left her feeling centered, calmed, and soothed. He really was home to her; and it was something she could only consciously admit now that she had heard his voice utter those words. Her contentedness, however, did not prevent her mind from moving on to other thoughts that weighed heavily on her shoulders. "Say, I... I was thinking about something lately."

"What?"

"...You know what you said about... about why I have a tanto?"

For a moment, Adame seemed uncharacteristically thrown off track. "Pardon?"

"About why I have a tanto," she explained, "instead of a katana, like most nobles."

Adame was a flirt, so he scrambled for a moment to recall precisely what it was that he had said; but he remembered the basic thrust of his remarks. "What about it?"

"...Nevermind," Ichihime dismissed, embarassed. "...Sorry, I was just thinking about it lately, that's all."

"Did something happen?" he asked, concerned.

"...Lots of little things," Ichihime answered evasively. "Good things, I think... They just made me think about what you said."

"_'To be close; to love, and to be loved'_?" Adame paraphrased himself with amusement. "Ready for a confession so soon?"

Ichihime snorted. "Don't let your head swell," she replied with a happy smirk. "I'll see you soon."

"Looking forward to it." She could feel his warm, charming, overpowering smile right through her cellphone.

-:-

_Along another timeline_

Isane thrust Itegumo through the last hollow's eye, and it vanished into a cloud of dust. Sheathing her katana, she dusted her hands in a satisfactory manner and turned her attention to the remainder of her sortie. They were all looking at her with mouth agape.

"What?" she asked them, not sure what the shocked faces were.

"You just took down twenty hollow without a scratch," Kiyone protested. "_By yourself._ Since when did you become such a badass, Neesan?"

Isane looked at the three of them with eyes wider than saucers. _"Me?"_ No way, that had been way too easy. Kiyone must have been pulling her leg. "I don't get it, they were big and clumsy and uncoordinated. It was easy. Surely you must have fought far more impressive hollows than those class Fs in the 13th, right?"

"That was four class Ds, six class Cs, five Bs, four As and an S," Rukia corrected, still astounded. Isane had just smashed through their armor like a four-thousand pound diesel truck. If Rukia had tried to swing Sode no Shirayuki at the carapace of that class S, she would have bounced right off. Isane's overpowering leverage just carved right through the thing like it was angel food cake. "You just took down a pre-gillian hunting party by yourself."

Isane looked askance with a blush, dismissing any fake compliments they were giving her. "Don't be ridiculous," she mumbled. "That was a bunch of class Fs."

"Class Fs, my ass," Kuukaku sputtered. "Have you been training with Unohana?"

"No," Isane denied. "I mean, not recently, because I was on honeymoon."

Kiyone tossed her hands up in the air in frustration. "Aw c'mon, Sis, how come you didn't tell me you're studying zanjetsu with the greatest sword master of all time? How the hell am I supposed to better than you at anything now?"

That made Isane slightly ticked off. "That's pretty sour coming from someone who learned bankai when they were eighty years old," she frowned.

"Oh shut up, you two," Kuukaku ordered. Her stomach was still clenched from the gore she had witnessed earlier. She had disposed of the mess with a _Hado #54: Abolishing Flames_ followed by a small _Hado #39: Tidal Turn Sickle_ to put out the brushfire. Still, the afterimage of the butchery was still seared into her retinas.

"Kotetsu Fukutaicho," Rukia asked, obviously referring to Isane. Whenever she referred to Kiyone, it was by her surname alone. "Unohana Sensei has been teaching you her Art of the Sword?" Rukia was under the impression that only she and Hisagi-san were studying it.

"No, no - I'm not good enough for that," Isane insisted. "Unohana Taicho has just been helping me with whatever I'm already used to, that's all - just some touch-ups to fit my style, seeing as how my swordsmanship skills are basically helpless."

"Tch," Kiyone snorted, folding her arms in protest. Isane's skill with a sword was obviously far better than she gave herself credit for. And it made sense that Unohana Taicho would train Isane according to her own unique style: few soldiers could leverage a major height advantage combined with a 7+ -foot wingspan and _also_ wield potent kido. Great. Kiyone was never going to keep up with her sister's talent now. "You're such a snot."

"I am not!"

Rukia sighed. "We are wasting time, Nee-sama."

Kuukaku filed it in the back of her mind that Kotetsu Isane was more or less a human tank. "Enough," she barked at the Kotetsu sisters. "Kotetsu-neesan, trace Hinamori's trail. We need to find her."

Isane nodded, but inside felt a bit put-off. She had been dragged out here, and now they were not only making her do all the work - which she honestly didn't mind at all - but they were putting her under the microscope, too. The last thing the shy vice captain wanted was undue attention. "This way," she gestured east, and the impromptu search-and-rescue party departed in a flash of shunpo.

-:-

_Back in Soul Society_

**_"Knock-Knock!"_** Ichihime shouted into the doorway.

Silence.

With a _Hado #31: Shot of Crimson Fire_ that would quake you in your socks if you were there to see it_,_ she blew the twenty-foot iron doors - each one weighing three tons - straight off their hinges. They caved in with an enormous, thunderous crash, spewing dust and debris and broken tile all over the place.

**_"You idiots!"_** she yelled down the empty hall. "You're supposed to say, **_'Who's there?'_**"

Byakuya restrained himself from displaying the smirk that he really wanted to give her, but thought it an inappropriate display of emotion in public. "You are finding this far too entertaining," he commented dryly. To be fair, he was enjoying the irony.

Guards came rushing into the hall as Ichihime, Byakuya, Yamamoto, Renji, Komamura, Hisagi, and Nanao marched through the newly created opening. A pikeman barked at them. "This place is off limits! You are entering illegally into the Central 46 Chambers!"

"No, no, no," Ichihime shook her head. "You got it all wrong," she insisted, continuing to march towards the group of low-grade bodyguards. "See, a knock-knock joke goes like this: I say _'knock-knock,'_ and you say, _'Who's there?'_ Then I say, _'Princess With An Agenda,'_ and then you say back, _'Princess-With-An-Agenda-Who?'_, and then I give you the _punch_line - " she emphasized with a nose-breaking crunch to his face - "_'It doesn't matter what my agenda is, shut the fuck up and let me in!'_"

Hisagi whispered in Renji's ear. "I can see why you had a thing for her," he ribbed.

"Shaddup," Renji sneered. It was still a sore point. He didn't mind participating in a mission with her - when Ichihime was on a mission, she was pure sass track from start to finish, with no time for mixing in any kind of personal history issues - but this particular incident, where she was able to use her position of nobility to advance the team, was something that stung him. Captain or not, Renji was still a stray dog too far down the ladder to ever reach her. He supposed that he would get over her - eventually, anyway. The fact that she was engaged helped him dismiss any illusions that he could get her back. From what he had heard about her fiance, he was at least satisfied that _she_ was happy. That didn't help Renji feel any better, but it at least freed him from regretting that he took the high road and let her go.

Another guard shouted back, determined to hold their position. "We cannot allow that! You are forbidden to enter without invitation!"

"Not anymore, Manure-Minded-Minion-of-Mediocrity," Ichihime stated defiantly. "Bill 46. Read it and weep. Then bend down and kiss my boots while you grovel to spare your life, 'cause all I need is to utter the word, and my private security forces will march in here and turn you into goat feed." It was a total lie - Ichihime had long since dismissed her father's private security forces, whom he had retained only as a ridiculously arrogant display of power - but the idiot in front of her didn't know that.

"Move aside," Byakuya commanded. "We seek audience with Central 46 immediately. By power of binding law, you have no right to stop us. And if you do, then we cannot be responsible for your untimely demise," he continued. His cold, aloof voice was a sheet of ice that blanketed the hall with the chilling realization that this troop of fourth-rate hacks was no match for the Captain Commander, the Major General of the Kido Corps, and a platoon of four captains. None of them even wanted to tango with the lone vice-captain, either.

The guards, who were not quite up on the latest legislative news, were in a bit of turmoil; but when Yamamoto banged his staff on the floor, they all took note. With a quick, chaotic shuffle, they formed two lines in an honor-guard fashion, allowing the shinigami to pass through.

"Much better, you snivelling punks," Ichihime laughed. "Remind me not to dock your pay too much this year!"

Byakuya looked at her with a tilted eyebrow.

"Oh, c'mon," she whispered back. "You know I hate this I'm-a-Head-of-House crap, but even I'm smart enough to know when I can use it to my advantage."

Byakuya held back a soft chuckle. Banzo-san had certainly passed from protege to peer in his eyes, and he actually preferred it that way. "Let us hope your reflexes are as sharp as your tongue," he threw back.

"Tch," she laughed. "Wanna test me, right here, right now?" she teased. "C'mon, I'll take you. Who cares if we trash the place, right?"

If Byakuya was capable of rolling his eyes, he would have. Fortunately, he could do no such thing. "I have a feeling the Central 46 chambers will meet much devastation once we reach the bottom of this."

"Hah hah, I can't wait!" Ichihime grinned, her eyes blazing like a burning devil. She wasn't exactly itching for a fight - to be honest, she was hoping this whole thing would blow over without much fuss - but she was in good spirits. For the first time, with a haori on her back, a priceless treasure from someone who loved her encasing her tanto, and on a real mission to potentially save the world, Ichihime felt like she had finally crafted her own destiny. Her future was hers to command. She had come back from the brink of tragedy, wrestled herself out from the specter of personal misery, recrafted her House in the manner that she thought it worthy of its name, and soared to where she finally felt like she _was_ who she _wanted_ to be.

_Ready to bring down the house?_ Shiji asked her.

Do pigeons shit?

Even Shiji laughed at that. He had heard plenty of comebacks from his master, but that was a new one. _I suppose they do,_ he replied amusingly, and readied himself for a battle he could feel at the tips of his yellow talons.

-:-

Q swore a thousand different ways when he saw the shinigami party march into the Central 46 Chambers. He knew he could take them, but he had hoped he would have had a lot more time. Not because he really needed it, but damn, the food was so good here. The pina coladas? Unreal. And the octopus! You couldn't get octopus this good _anywhere_.

Oh well, he thought. Turning to his epsilon blade, now a proper Genesis/Shishi-O/Astryx hybrid, he spoke to it telepathically. Alright guys, ready for me to come in there and set up shop?

_I do not recognize you among the Living Dead,_ Genesis answered. _But you are the only master I can see._

_RRRROAAAARRRRRR,_ Shishi-O howled in approval.

_Ryfxt Jibbetzquark,_ Astryx confirmed in his bizarre, alien language. Q somehow understood it as a statement in the affirmative.

Alrighty then! he answered. Fetching Murusame, he used its special ability to extract his own soulcore thread, and then began wrapping it around his Hougyoku-infused zanpakutou. After these simple ministrations were done, he entered the reishi fusion chamber, typed in the codes, and began the process of making himself the first God he ever knew.

* * *

_Reviews, please! Bonus points to anyone who has already figured out the truths tucked into the hidden story.  
**Next chapter:** Everything begins!_


	49. Healing, Hoping, Living, Loving

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note:** 'Heterochromia' is when someone's eyes have different colors. You can Google some examples._

_**Translator's note:** For all those of you speak Japanese better than I do (likely many of you) - I apologize in advance. My Japanese is awful. Forgive me for butchering it. However, I will remind those of you that can tell, in canon, most shinigami speak a more feudal-era Japanese; especially Rukia. _

* * *

_"First of all, identifying someone by the color of their skin is highly offensive. Second of all, I am not black. If anything, I am a dark roasted cacao. So there."_  
_~Shihoin Zarina (who is ethnically Japanese); dismissing a suitor who made an impolite comment_

_"Tch, you have to be kidding me. Hinamori-obasan barely gives a shit about Otousan, much less me. The only person she takes seriously is her captain."_  
_~ Hitsugaya Makahiro, dismissing the notion that he could request anything from his Aunt Momo; about 200 years from now_

_"We must love the ones important to us the way they are, not the way we want them to be."_  
_~Shiba Kuukaku, trying to teach her daughter a valuable lesson when Kuchiki Hisako asked how come Hinamori Momo's only true friend was her captain; about 200 years from now_

_"Even Nii-sama can be swayed by sappy sentiment. Nee-sama once told me it was how she convinced him to marry her."_  
_~Rukia confiding to Ichigo that, despite the aura she may present, that she always appreciates his corny valentines and anniversary cards_

_"Oh Kami, does Okaasama hate it when people think she's Hisako-sama's daughter. Otousama thinks it's hilarious, though. Then Ma pops Oyaji on the head and calls him an idiot."  
~Kuchiki Sado, commenting on the uncanny similarities between his mother and her niece_

* * *

Morgan was less surprised when Hinamori crawled into his bed for a second night. Once again, she was spooned up against his bare back; her head nestled in between his shoulder blades. While she was dressed in his cotton bathrobe this time, she still nonetheless had brought the katana into bed. Like the night before, he assumed it was a crystal clear statement: any funny business will be met with punishment.

As tempted as any man would be with a woman in their bed at night, Morgan was adamantly resolute to not cause any trouble, even though she was wrapping her robed arm across his upper chest from behind. It was not a romantic or sensuous gesture, anyway. Morgan was pretty clear it was the only means she had for expressing how shattered she felt inside. It hurt him to realize that the goddess he had admired from his childhood had become so badly broken.

Morgan knew, though, that this was what Q did. He broke people.

"G'night, Miss Hinamori Ma'am," he said softly, hoping that at the very least it might prompt her to say something.

She didn't.

Morgan closed his eyes and tried to understand how his life always seemed to run head-first into mysteries. The female mind was one of the ones that mystified him more than others. The female mind of a goddess? Forget it. Mystery of mysteries.

"Morgan?" came a shattered voice from behind his back.

"'mm?" he answered in modest surprise.

"...Can I ask you something?"

You just did, he thought amusingly, but knew better than to voice this out loud. "Sherr."

"...Do you mind me staying here?"

"No, nots at all," he replied earnestly. "I's likes yerr cumpuhnee, akchooally."

"Tch," she sneered. "You just like having a woman in your bed."

"Aw, c'mon, don'ts gimme dat. Don'ts be-a sellin' me ten pound'-o'-bullshit inna five-pound bag, sees? I don'ts needs ta 'splain ta yoos. Yoos knows I's always 'njoys yerr cumpuhnee."

"Why?" Momo asked bitterly. "How could you possibly enjoy my company?"

Morgan selected his words carefully. "We's all gets lonely frumm time-ta-time," he said, perhaps a bit more pointedly than he had originally intended.

It was met with no response at first, but to his surprise, she eventually squeezed him affectionately; her arm around his chest conveying an embrace of sincere-if-yet-reluctant gratitude.

"I's knows yoos don'ts wants ta talk 'bout it," he began cautiously, "buts I's pretty sure dat's whatevva dat bastard didtaya, 'twas worse than tha wurrsst nytemair anywunn koulda thought ovv."

Momo emotionally withdrew herself to somewhere far away. After a long bout of silence and stillness that spoke far more volumes of terror than anything that ever could have been put into words, she seemed to return with an exhaled breath. When words finally resurfaced from that void of murky, inky blackness in her soul, they came out only because tears accompanied them. "It would have been better if I had just died," she confessed painfully. "I... that's the only thing I can feel anymore. I - I just want to die."

Morgan knew she could cut his arm off, but he didn't hesitate. Hesitation at this moment kills souls. He needed to act first, suffer consequences later. He swiftly turned over, and knowing that he was daring to move into the personal space of the gods, he reached around and hugged her tightly.

She seemed to recoil at first, but he held fast. He knew she needed it, and as usual when it came to psychology, he was right. Moments later, she was sobbing and crying and pulling his arms around her more tightly than he had initially offered.

"I's wantchoo ta live," he instructed softly, making sure she knew it was true.

"Why?" was all she could choke out.

"'ope lives inna all o' us, Momo-san," he said, daring to use her personal name but remembering to add the required honorific. He tried very hard to pronounce it correctly, not letting his thick Louisianna-Bayou accent corrupt it into something disrespectful.

Upon hearing her name, she burst into another fit of heaving, and cried into his chest. It was a hairy mess, but it was firm and strong and it felt like it could support the towers and towers of brick burdens that lay upon her shoulders. She felt him gently kiss her scalp, and she realized with relief that, at least at the moment, her scars weren't itching.

With a fear that he might very well lose his hand, yet another fear that told him it was his only chance to make the move, he brought the palm of his hand to her nearly bald head; the very beginning of peach fuzz that had formed rested softly under his rough, calloused hands. To his relief, she allowed it. It was highly uneven - the scar tissue on her scalp had prevented hair from growing along the gash where her skull had been torn open. There was basically no way she would ever have a normal hairstyle again; she would either have to resort to the Sigourney-Weaver-in-Alien look, where the scar tissue would stand out but at least wouldn't affront the overall shape of the hairstyle, or wear a hairpiece of some kind. He didn't know if shinigami had cosmetic surgery - he assumed that they did - so it was possible that they could do something to fix it, but still, he could understand how despair-inducing it could be to look in a mirror and know that your hair would never be the same.

He gently rubbed her scalp in a relaxing fashion, knowing that the sensation would subconsciously calm her down through natural biorhythmia of the autonomic nervous system. Or at least, he assumed that angels more or less shared human physiology. "S'Juss hair," he said softly, careful to enunciate the 'h'. "Ain't mos' women tryin' ta get ridda da stuff mos' o' da time, anyways?"

She snorted with a huge sneer, but he could tell from the cessation of her heaving that his joke had been (relatively) well received. "An' besides, heh-turra-kro-miya izz cool. Ain't dat what theys be-a sayin' in all dem komic books now'days?"

"You're a dick, Morgan," Momo sniffled, and he could tell she didn't really mean it.

"Sees, I's told yoos dats yoos gots spunk," he fired back.

"Shut up and go to sleep."

He gently kissed the top of her head again, and like she did before, she let him get away with it. Or, perhaps, she actually appreciated it this time.

-:-

Morgan did something the next morning that he hadn't done in a very long while. He woke up with a woman in his bed.

That would be a disingenuous understanding of the situation if voiced out of context. There was no hanky-panky of any kind. He slept with Momo, and unlike the day before, she was still asleep in his arms when he woke up - but he slept with her in the sense that he slumbered alongside her. That was the beginning and the end of it. And that was okay.

He debated whether or not he should move. He was tangled up in her. Hinamori's bare leg had sort of draped over his ankle, and her head was nestled in the crook of his collar.

His quandary was pushed aside when she stirred, pulling back a bit and muttering incoherently in some language he could barely understand. He wasn't sure if it was Japanese or Korean. Either way, he couldn't understand a word of it.

"Your breath stinks," she muttered, although not necessarily in a tone that was intended to be offensive.

"Yoo's breath smells like roses an' peaches, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am," he teased back.

"Don't call me that," she said flatly. Morgan had been listening carefully, and he undoubtedly picked up a faint trace of sentimentality in her commentary. "...I didn't mind 'Momo-san'. That was fine."

"O-kays, then," he nodded. He was going to have be careful pronouncing it. 'San' was not supposed to rhyme with 'fan'. If he did that, she would probably kill him. He still remembered how she hated it when he butchered the -sama honorific he had once tried using. He didn't want to make that mistake again; not when she was finally opening up to him.

"Go and shower," she instructed him. "I'll take one after you."

"Yoos want me ta use da guest bat'rooomm?" he offered. "Innakase yoos prefer ittat way, dat's fine."

Hinamori paused. "That's nice of you, but go ahead. I can wait."

"O-kays," he agreed, and went to the bathroom.

Once he was behind the closed bathroom door, Momo reached for her sword. She wanted to talk to it; but it was nothing but silence to her. For the first time since she woke up from that horrible ordeal, she missed Tobiume. At least she knew how to get Tobiume to talk back. This new zanpakutou spoke only in emotions; only in love and hate and suffering and despondence. She felt it thrum under her fingers; it was trying to say 'I love you, Master', but she couldn't hear its words or thoughts, only its feelings. She still didn't know her Savior's name, and it was frustrating. She had been a shikai wielder for so long; it was frustrating to start that journey over again. Being able to talk freely to her zanpakutou would have given her another consciousness to inquire. About what, she didn't know; but it was an annoyance that irked her.

Despite this, she wasn't in a bad mood. Hinamori wouldn't admit to being in a good mood - she didn't believe in such things anymore - but she was in reasonable spirits. Her reishi was building back up, and she felt safe here.

Feeling safe is something that I undervalued too much, she thought honestly.

These thoughts made her think of Shiro. He had always strived to keep her safe, and even though he had not always been successful, she couldn't fault him for it. Momo wondered where he was now. Probably signing lots of forms, she thought, for the first time allowing her mind to think past her own bitterness. He's probably doing lots of paperwork without a lieutenant to help him.

The thought of Matsumoto didn't darken her mood, but Momo quickly clamped down on that painful subject. Avenging Rangiku had been a journey into the bowels of hell, and she wasn't quick to jog down that particular memory lane.

With a sudden urge to do something sadistic, Hinamori felt like barging into the bathroom. She suspected that it was unlocked. He was likely unused to visitors and probably wasn't in the habit of locking the bathroom door behind him. Before he could react, she could pull the shower curtain open and look at him, standing there naked, and taunt him.

She could, but she didn't. The thought of doing so was enough to satisfy her torment-inducing compulsions. Instead, she decided to be good. She retired to the guest bathroom, where she showered out of his way. Memories of yesterday's breakfast were beginning to fill both her mouth and stomach, and she looked forward to the venison she had stashed away in the back of the refrigerator's meat drawer.

She ate venison tartar for breakfast, thinly sliced and served over steamed corn. The taste of raw flesh was satiating, and she found that it lessened her compunction for violence. Morgan didn't comment on her choice of dish; he just ate his toast with jam and coffee and attempted to make small talk. Momo was not up for small talk, but she tried hard to be civil.

After breakfast, Momo decided that Morgan was tolerable by comparison to most other people, and so she joined him on the couch. He read the sports section from the newspaper, and Momo continued reading Leon Uris's Exodus. For her, slogging through the English was hard - she was far more used to kanji - but the story was quite good, and so she found it compelling enough to keep at it. The ambiance was quiet, but pleasant. At some point, Morgan got up and returned with another cup of coffee for him, and a large glass of ice water for her. She thought it was rather thoughtful of him.

Every now and then, both of them would look up from their reading materials. Hollows could be felt in the distance, but then they would vanish. Momo didn't care enough to be bothered; she was on medical leave and saw no reason to bother worrying about hollow-killing. There were likely shinigami from the 13th already stationed here that were dealing with the problem. Morgan was on vacation, and while he cared enough to consider getting out his pistol, he too didn't feel anything linger long enough to warrant a hunt.

The day passed without much more conversation, although when early evening approached, Morgan asked if it was alright for him to turn on the television to watch some football. Diametrically opposite her initial expectations, Momo soon found herself immersed in this violently strategic game of men smashing into each other. She couldn't understand all the rules, but by the end of the game, she had somehow ended up with her head in his lap, debating about whether or not the Rams had bungled the 3rd down in their last possesion, as they could have pulled off a touchdown instead of just a field goal.

After some inconsequential discussion about the finer points of pigskin strategy, Hinamori exhaled with a certain finality and seized the remote from Morgan. Switching off the TV, she rolled over onto her side, with her head still on Morgan's thigh but facing away from him. She wasn't sure she had the wherewithal to face him.

Morgan, who knew enough about her to know that her melancholy bouts of silence were predicates to heavy discussion, affectionately brushed his fingers across her hairline. "What izz it?"

She sneered - no different than usual - and allowed the absensce of words to drift in the air before she was finally able to speak. "Why are you such an optimist?"

Morgan smiled at the peculiar insight, mostly because of the bitterness that accompanied the seemingly pejorative label. "Why's yoos think I's an opp-ta-mist?"

"Tch," she replied. "You believe in hope. You're an optimist."

Morgan realized this was a conversation that could make or break the goddess in his lap. Or his neck. It depended on how well he danced and pranced around the sensitivities. "I's believe in 'ope 'cuzz itts alls I's gots."

"Tch," she repeated. "Hope is worthless. The world is cruel."

"Sherr izz," he acknowledged. "Buts that's don'ts mean I's gots ta be," he answered. "I's gots ta doos what's right inna dis krool wurld, 'cuzz othawise I's ain't doin' my job."

"Sorry to tell you this, but the world doesn't give a shit if you do right or wrong."

"Buts _yoos_ do."

Momo paused. That was a hard answer to reject. On top of that, it actually made her think.

"Anna that's hows itz izz. Da wurld izza harrsshh playce, sherr iddizz. Buts dat's whys we's needs each otha. So's thats we's kinna doos summa good inna dis wurld - ta make it wurth livin'. 'Cuzz no-wunn kinna say, _'Da wurld izz shits, so's I's juss gonna abb-zolve meeself frum iddall.'_ That ain't tha poin' o' livin. So's we's gots ta doos what's right."

"And you call that 'hope'?" Momo asked scornfully.

"Sherr do," he promised softly. "'Cuzz we's alls gots ta believe that's we's ain't tha only wunn who's thinks lika that. We's all gots ta believe that othas also want summthin' betta than juss a harrsshh wurld all 'round 'em. Anna I's think that belief izz pro-found e'nuff ta be a good reason ta hope. Not ev'ree-wun out dair s'gonna be good, buts we's gotta hope that life will be more than juss tha plague all tha time, sees?"

Momo felt argumentative. "That's naive."

"No itznot," he chuckled, acknowledging his somewhat childish response. "S'Juss that's I's believe in 'ope. S'at's what makes it wurk, sees?"

For an unknown reason, Momo's desire to insist that the world was a waste dissipated. She almost wanted to believe in what he was saying. Almost. Reluctantly, she detached herself from her overbearing cynicism and confessed something that was already on the tip of her tongue. "I used to believe in hope once."

"Yoos kinna believe in it again," Morgan suggested.

Momo sighed. She could have been bitterly cynical, but for some reason was only doggedly skeptical. "What good will hope bring me? Hope has only killed me."

"No, I's believe that only _bastards_ kinna kill ye," Morgan disagreed. "Anna yoos seem ta have managed survivin' juss fine. So's I's don'ts thinka lil' bit o' 'ope 'll doos yoos any 'arm."

Momo felt unsure of herself. (It was becoming a recurring problem lately.) She had been so resolute to be miserable, and now she was allowing a touch of her old life - her old sunshine, her old hope and dreams - to come visit her again. With a hesitation that revealed a glimmer of openness in her soul, she eeked out a question. "What... what good is hope if... if it will be torn from me again?"

"That's tha thing 'bout 'ope," Morgan shrugged. "No-wunn kinna evva take it frum yoos 'cept yerself. You kinna die wit' a noose 'round yer neck and yer feet danglin', but yoos kinna still have hope."

"That's stupid," Momo sneered again, wanting so bad for it not to be stupid at all. "Hope is worthless if you die."

"Nah," Morgan shrugged. "Dyin's easy if yoos gots 'ope. Yoos juss 'ope yoos gonna get a betta chance nex' time."

Momo turned her head to look Morgan in the eye. Her face was twisted with sardonic disbelief. "What the hell do you know about dying, you petty human? You think you understand death? You can say that with a straight face to a shinigami? To a God of Death? What the hell do you know?"

Morgan regretted his flippant remarks - perhaps they had been a bit too casual in the presence of a shinigami - but he held his position. If there was any human on Earth who knew anything about death and dying, it was him. "I's knows enough ta see what's kinna happen when yoos died inside," he replied, firm but respectful. He steeled himself for the broken jaw that he was likely about to receive.

As if on cue, that pissed Momo off to an extreme. She got out of his lap and onto her feet. Angry and agitated, the uniformed lieutenant seized him by the collar. "You have something to say to me? _Say it!_"

Morgan sighed calmly. When he spoke, he was calm and relaxed. He didn't let the situation escalate. "Momo-san," he said, pronouncing her name carefully as a deliberate means of showing her that he was respecting her in the utmost, "I's sayin' itsa shame ta see yoos teeterin' onda edge. 'Ope izzda basis o' ou' hyoomanniddee. Yoos mays be a goddess, anna yoos mays nots needs yo's hyoomanniddee - buts whetha yoos needs its er nots, I's knows yoos wannit back. I's knows yoos gots fire innyerr soul an' sass inyerr boots, anna yoos ain'ts tha type ta givvupp anna let some shit-faced bastard-son-of-a-shitbag hurrt yerr spirit wurse thinna yerr flesh. I's wants yoos ta believe in 'ope, 'cuzz I's thinks yoos dizzerve betta than mopin' 'round summa sinna's vaycayshunn 'ouse out inna tha country, wunderin' iffa yoos be betta off dead. Yeah, I's gots summthin' ta say, Momo-san - I's gots ta tell yoos that I's like yoos - _alive_ - anna it hurrts my blessed soul to sees yoos sufferin' wittout healin'."

Hinamori's mismatched eyes probed his bottomless irises filled with what seemed like millennia of wisdom. There was not one ounce of disingenuous sentiment that she could see in that infinite stratos of concern. For but a moment, she was incapable of speech.

He seized it. "I's believe yoos ain't dead yet, Momo-san. Yoos gots life left inna that thair soul o' yerrs, anna I's be damned ferr all ee-terr-nih-tee anna fo'evva an' evva iffa I's don'ts help yoos get it back."

A saline estuary began to seep up from the dry, cracked riverbed around Hinamori's artificial eye. She struggled to understand. "Why?" she quivered softly, her grip on his collar loosening and her hands falling to his chest in defeat. "Why? Why do you believe that? How can you believe that?" The tears no longer seemed constrained, and in a brush with grief, they spilled over past her lashes and over quivering lips, and soon they were being soaked into his shirt as his arms wrapped around her. The embrace was met with furthered heaving and excessive ventilation of the lungs via an interminable wail that emanated from the tiny woman's mouth.

"'ope lives inna all o' us, Momo-san," he whispered again. The broken woman in his lap sobbed, and he kissed her head in a soothing manner, trying to get her to calm down.

After a good few minutes, she seemed to settle down, and positioned herself affectionately in his lap, with her head resting on his shoulder. "I want a peach," she said sadly and longingly, somewhat randomly. Not that it mattered - she would probably have to sift through bushels of human food just to find one she could actually eat.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I's don'ts have any."

I miss Tobiume, Momo thought. I wish I could talk to her. Savior, can't you bring back Tobiume?

Her katana, still tucked through her obi, refused to answer in words. It could only answer in a muddled mess of translucent gray imagery. Momo didn't want to even _try_ and understand it. She loved her Savior, but she missed Tobiume far more. She even missed Kyouka Suigetsu - she missed him being an ass; she missed the opportunity to achieve what she could not before. She missed the opportunity to learn to respect and possibly even love him; she could admit only now that she regretted not letting herself get lost in him. He may have been Aizen in some ways, but he had been _her_ Aizen, the one she could never get. But while she had lost him, _that was okay._ It was probably better that way - and probably better that, for all her regrets, she hadn't given in to his temptations. Aizen and his ilk was a bitter pill, and perhaps Momo was better off for not falling into him a second time. But Momo missed Tobiume. The pull on her soul was harrowing; she wanted Tobiume. She missed her; Momo missed that young and generally cheery bell-wearing Shinto priestess.

Momo suddenly missed Shiro, and Shiba Taicho, and Rangiku. She missed Isane. She even missed Rukia. Momo, in the arms of this human who somehow had restored her ability to see past her hatred of the universe, had gotten her to see her hand reaching towards the sunlight. She could feel herself clawing at the air, hand out of the grave and leading the way for the rest of her to follow.

The metaphorical sunlight was powerful, and Momo's bitterness and scorn - while still powerful forces within her general demeanor - receded enough to open the curtains and let that sunlight in. She traced the sunlight up to its metaphorical sky, tracing the clouds that had hidden it from her for so long. Lost deep in thought, she locked her mind onto the stormcloud that had shielded her from the sun's warmth; the gray puff of smoke that had sent her into a spiral. "Morgan," she eventually said, still trying to collect her thoughts.

"Mmm?"

"Did... did you ever want to kill your ex-wife for cheating on you?"

Try as he might, Morgan still couldn't prevent a surprised chuckle escape. "That's a _really_ loaded kwess-chyun iffa I's evva hurrd wunn."

"Her name was Lucy, right?"

"Yeah," he exhaled, not really sure how to answer this. "I's don'ts knows thats I's evva wanted ta kill Loose, but I's pretty sherr I's wanted her ta gets what she asked fo'."

"Do you still feel that way?"

"Sometimes," Morgan admitted. "I's try not ta think 'bout her. I's tells myself that tha wurst punishmen' I's kinna givv ta herr izz ta proove thats she's ain'ts gots no bearin' on my life no more. That's she's don'ts mattuh. That's e'en iffa I loved her once, she's turned 'erself inta a matta o' kozmik in-sigg-niff-ih-ggince. Anna I's thinks that, ta be fergotten in tha annals o' hist'ry azz a _nobody_ izz da wurst kinda punishmen'."

Hinamori dwelled on that for a moment. She wasn't sure whether she agreed with him. "So you just leave it at that? Let her ruin you and then you just tell yourself that you forget the whole thing?" Momo was having a hard time believing that even Morgan could be that pious.

He deliberated for a moment. "I's think it's more that I's dinna wants ta _let_ herr roo-inn me. I's koulda gotten all krush'd o'er it - wells, ta be fair, I's was ferr awhile - buts iffa I's don'ts look ta fo'get iddalls thens I's juss hurtin' meeself atdat point, sees?"

A huge part of Momo was telling her to vehemently deny that, but the wiser part of her had seen the sunlight, and it refused to be thrown back down into a makeshift grave. After a few moments, she forced herself to admit something that she never wanted to verbally express. "I loved someone once... and someone loved me once. And because the first betrayed me, I let the second one do the same. And I-"

Morgan put his fingers to her lips. _"No,"_ he insisted. "I's refuse ta listen ta shit lika that."

"Huh?"

"Yoos can't _let_ summawunn betray yoos," he said, holding her tight against his chest. "That's not hows it wurrks. _They's_ betrayed _yoos_, yoos gots nuthin' ta do wit it."

"But - "

"_No buts,_ Goddess Hinamori," he insisted firmly. "I don'ts givva rat's balls whats yoos say, idd ain't yer fault. Iffa summ prick put 'is prick where it don'ts belong, well, that's _hizz_ sin."

Momo allowed herself to accept that in silence. In an acquiescence and an appreciation of his words, she put a hand on his chest and snuggled tightly in his lap.

Despite the emotionally heavy nature of their conversation, this last gesture was a touch more intimate then he was guarded for, and Morgan's restraint began to wear down on him. How she even ended up with her head in his lap and talking about football, he couldn't even begin to understand. Morgan didn't know where this evening was going - but it was going _somewhere_; and he knew if he wasn't careful, he was going to make a grievous mistake.

She made it for him. With a sudden impetuous impulse, she kissed his throat. It was not anything like the paternal gesture he had given her many times now; the comforting kiss atop her scarred scalp. It was, instead, a tender thank you; a sweet-yet-succulent offering. It was far from excessive, but it was deeply personal.

And suggestive.

Frozen without the ability to discern how he should proceed, he clamped down on his prepossessions and held to his inhibitions, despite the clammy physical reactions her gesture caused. After a cautious moment, he tried to engage in verbal communication. "...Momo-sann," he said, forgetting proper enunciation of the honorific. It came out rhyming with "fan", "pan", and "can".

She buried her head farther down into her own chest. "Sorry," she said quietly. "...That was inappropriate."

"Uh, no's! I's juss that, I's, uh - "

The weighty aura suddenly broke, and Momo laughed. "You're flustered!" She couldn't believe it. Morgan _never_ got flustered.

Morgan looked down at the woman in his lap. For the first time, he saw her smile. Not the smile of a torn-and-tattered victim, but the smile of Hinamori Momo. "Sorry, I's just, uh, tryin' ta be re-speck-ful."

She got out of his lap, sensing that he was uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, just that perhaps their serious discussion needed some time to flit away, and that he wasn't prepared to tackle any other matters so easily. As she stood up, she put a hand to his face and kissed him on the lips, gently and softly - not in a particularly romantic or sensuous fashion, but in a manner of gratitude. A 'thank you' that was hard to express in words. As she expected, he seemed to understand. "I want to go look for some fruit that I can eat," Momo said matter-of-factly, but in a far nicer tone than she had been using lately. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Doos yoos wants me ta cumma witchoo?"

She kissed him again, although this time on the forehead. "You're a sweet man, Morgan. And an honest one."

That comment seemed to brighten him. "That means a lot ta me, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am."

She smiled again - a real, genuine, Goddess of the Rising Korean Sun smile - and, sensing that she had recuperated enough, vanished in a flash of shunpo.

Morgan took an exceptionally deep breath and tried to replay the recent events in his mind. Harumia's admonitions had of course been right, and his conclusions of the ordeal had led him to strive to make up for that dip into forbidden knowledge. Because of that, Morgan cherished Hinamori's last comment far more than she ever could have understood. He was a sinner, that was without doubt - but maybe there was redemption for him, too.

-:-

_"Move it, you lazy, lecherous lollicon-loving, libidinous livestock-lusting, lame latrine-licking lardass!"_ Ichihime yelled at the Central 46 judge who was trying to stall their entrance into the underground chambers.

Yamamoto, who had chosen Kuchiki Taicho and Banzo Taicho specifically for their position of authority vis-a-vis their conflict with Central 46, allowed himself a rare moment of commentary to Ise. Over the past ten years, he had come to respect her intelligence enough to be casual with her on occasion. "Is she always this unladylike?"

Nanao chuckled. "Some intimidate via stony glares, Machiavellian threats, or displays of overwhelming power. Others, like Banzo-sama, just initimidate."

_"I don't give a flying fucknut about your foofy fruity frothing frog-fucking fisting of a five-franc whore!"_ she yelled at a different judge. "Now you can get down here from behind that cowardly curtain and personally open the chambers for us, _or I can fry your ass with lightning between your wrinkly balls!"_

Byakuya decided to play his variant. "You question our authority," he stated coldly. "That affronts my pride."

Renji laughed. "Here we go," he mumbled amusingly to Hisagi.

"That's it," Ichihime muttered loudly, tossing her hands into the air. "You insulted his pride. That's it, folks, show's over - go home before you die. Don't say I didn't warn you!"

_"Scatter, Senbonzakura."_

The judge barring the gate refused to budge. "Central 46 refuses!"

Byakuya's shikai would have shredded his face in a gory bloody mess, but Ichihime was used to this tactic by now and saved the man by seizing his head and hurling him face first into the floor. "_DUCK,_ you moron."

The judge, who was now being restrained against the floor with her knee, barely registered what had happened. Ichihime spoke in his ear. "For the next twenty years, you will not forget to sing the praises of Princess Banzo's immaculate mercy. Now play dead, and you might not end up that way." Not surprisingly, he complied.

As the elevator doors closed, now carrying the shinigami party to Basement 19 (which was a tight fit due to Komamura Saijin's massive form), Byakuya turned to Ichihime. "'Immaculate mercy'?"

She shrugged. "I know, not my best. It sounded imperial, though. I figured I should experiment."

Byakuya sighed as he nodded, thinking that one over. "'Magnanimous' would have been more alliterative."

Ichihime's eyes lit up. "Ooh, that's a good one. I'll have to remember that."

Hisagi turned to Renji in a hushed whisper. "Is that really Kuchiki Taicho?"

"He and Ichihime-san have kind of a weird friendship," Renji whispered back, sort of resenting the thought as it came out of his mouth. "I don't get it either."

Hisagi mulled it over. He had heard from Nan-chan that Byakuya had changed over the years, but he had never expected the Kuchiki prince to have a sense of humor.

-:-

Morgan was just about ready for bed when Momo returned. He honestly breathed a sigh of relief - he had some sense of foreboding about her departing on her own, but thankfully it seemed as though she had gone and returned without incident. He was in the kitchen cleaning up his dinner when she flashed in.

"Good eev'nin'," he greeted her warmly. "Find whatchoo lookin' fo'?"

"I found a nectarine," she said, her tone devoid of any nastiness this time around. It may have even been called cordial. "I ate it on the way home."

"'Ya save tha pit?"

Momo cocked her head curiously. "Actually, I did." Why, she couldn't recall.

"Come," he gestured, and she followed him outside.

Out in the quiet country air, with the crickets chirping and against the backdrop of stars, he dug a small hole in the earth with a spade and motioned for her to deposit the fruit's stone. Puzzled at this odd turn of events - did he plant every pit from every fruit he ate, she wondered sarcastically - Momo humored him. Afterwards, he covered the seed and brushed off his hands. "Thankya."

"Is this some kind of sentimental human ritual I'm not aware of?" she asked skeptically.

"Nah," he shrugged. "I's juss thought t'would be nice ta plant it. Ta commemurate yer visit."

"You're corny," she frowned.

"Maybes," he chuckled. "Buts no reason not toos."

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes.

"I's 'ope it grows big an' strong anna sweet," he teased.

Knowing a hidden compliment when she heard one, Momo allowed her cynicism to shed a little bit, even as she rolled her eyes. Reluctantly (but deciding it was a polite response), she reached for his hand. He accepted it with a wry smile. "Eh, you're full of shit," she teased back.

He laughed. She was getting her spunk back.

They went back inside, and Momo broke hands with him to go into her room. He didn't think much of it, and proceeded to his own bedroom to get ready for bed. Stripping down to his briefs and throwing on a pair of cotton sleeping shorts, he then did his normal nighttime routine and got himself settled into bed. He wasn't surprised when she opened the door and came in to join him - he had been expecting her to come into his bed again. For all she had presented herself as a bitter isolationist, he knew she was lonely and hated being by herself.

What he had _not_ expected was her attire, or lack thereof. The first night, she had come to bed in uniform; the previous evening she had been in his bathrobe. Now, she was holding her katana in hand, since she wasn't wearing a belt - or much else, for that matter. Hinamori was wearing only her undergarments; a modest navy cotton bra and white panty-boxers. It wasn't exactly a sexy look - nor did she seem to have that intention - but it had Morgan's blood roiling anyway.

With a nervous apprehension, Morgan inhaled deeply as Momo crawled into bed. He wanted to turn to face her, but felt like he wouldn't be able to control himself. Pressed up against his back, he noticed that she had left her katana on the floor this time, because it wasn't pressing into his back at the moment. Her breasts were, though, and he tried to think only holy thoughts. They weren't coming so easily.

"Hey, Momo-san," he said softly, trying to hide the sexual tension in his voice. "I's glad ta sees yoos, uh, makin' yerself comfurtubble."

Whether she noticed his discomfort or was oblivious to it wasn't clear, but she kissed his shoulder blade. "You're a gentleman. I like you that way. Go to sleep."

Relieved at her clear decision on the matter, he tried hard not to let the warm body in his bed distract him. Unfortunately, it was far too challenging; and he couldn't sleep. He wasn't sure things were going to improve, but the current position was not conducive to sleeping nor, well, _sleeping_; if that's what was going to come of it.

He immediately rebuked himself in his mind. Besides the fact that his fantasies were beyond ludicrous, she was vulnerable and it was unfair of him to take advantage of her state of mind. Any inclinations the situation would have lended itself to would likely not be considered wise, given her emotional tottering these past few days. When she began kissing his neck, though, he wondered if it would do more harm to caution her against any shortsighted intentions she might have. Who knew what kind of offenses she could take in her current disposition.

Morgan shifted his weight slowly, as a signal to have her move. She withdrew a few inches, enough for him to roll onto his back; and she repositioned herself in the crook of his arm. His arm was now wrapped over her figure, and he could feel the soft, delicate skin on her back; it was nothing like her battle-calloused hands or her scarred head. Her hand that had previously been across his waist now found purchase on his bare chest, and she tenderly stroked one of his pectorals after gently kissing the other. Her leg slid across his, and her bare thigh became dangerously close to making contact with a place he was sure he didn't want it to go.

"Yoos, uh, makin' it hard fer a poo' sinna like me ta go ta sleep."

She smiled like the devil. "I know."

"But, uh, as yoos say, I's a gentleman," he insisted nervously.

"Yes, you are," she replied evasively, and kissed his chest affectionately.

"I's, uh, not sherr iffa I kinna, uh, be a gentleman like dis."

Her playful demeanor was washed away with a turn of cynicism. "Get off it. With this face," she gestured to herself, "I'm sure it won't be hard."

His tone transformed as well. "Don'ts yoos be sayin' that," he fired back, his 'that' actually coming out with proper pronunciation for a change. "Yoos gots no right sayin' meanin'less shit like that."

For reasons she could not understand, she accepted his rebuke without argument. Instead, she exhaled with a confession of her own. "I was pretty once."

"Still are," he corrected. He rubbed her back to reassure her. Morgan was still relieved that the moment had shifted to a more manageable stream of emotion. Reassurance and confidence-building, that he was comfortable with. This new something-or-other, well, Morgan wasn't quite sure of how badly he would burn in Hell for giving in to the temptations of an angel when she wasn't really thinking so logically.

"Now you're just being a dick," she said, although he wasn't sure if she entirely meant it.

"I's not," he insisted again. "I's mean it. Juss 'cuzz yoos ain't wearin' makeup means yoos ain't no ugly ducklin'."

"Tch," she snorted. "You think makeup will fix this farce my face has turned into?"

Morgan chuckled. It was a touch out of place, but it was his way of backtracking. "Look, I's juss bein' polite," he apologized. "I's meant ta say that's a princess's still a princess, no matta what half herr face looks like. Purrsunnally, I's think yoos fah mo' 'tractive when yoos smile den when yoos sneer."

Hinamori was about to call him the _biggest_ fucking bullshit artist she had ever met when she stopped herself short. Unfortunately, Morgan had this habit of actually being right. It could really suck. "You're a vainglorious, sunny, optimistic bastard, aren't you?" she finally spat out, giving up.

"On o-kay-junn," he laughed back. "Or so says summa woman whos binna keepin' me up at night."

Momo sighed in amusement, but her humor faded quickly as her threads of thought traced back to her earlier stream of consciousness. "What was Lucy like? I mean, was she pretty?"

"I guess," Morgan admitted. "I's don'ts really pay much uhtennshun ta silly things lika dat."

"You're an ass-kissing priest in Secret Service clothing," she muttered.

"I's thinks I's be-a takin' dat azz a kompliment."

Suddenly overwhelmed by all that they had discussed, she capitulated. Momo was realizing that, despite what she had suffered, she didn't have all the answers. She squeezed him tightly. "Thanks for letting me stay here."

"O' course," he answered sincerely. Then he risked a personal comment. "Yoos real lonely, ain'tchoo."

The restrained, constrained fluid seeped out from behind her eyelashes. "Yes," she admitted weakly. "I am." Her voice broke under the strain of tears. "I really, really am."

He hushed her and pulled her in tightly, his arms wondering if they would ever stop finding themselves wrapped around her tiny frame. She responded and clamped up flat against him, pressing him from shoulder to shin. Somehow, he kept his cool even though he was embarassed to be thinking about how her soft, luscious form was separated from his by only a few pieces of inconsequential cloth. "S'Okay now," he promised. "I's gots yoos, now."

Momo felt so relieved to vent. She had been in such a painful need of catharsis, and the relief that rushed in washed over her with a warmth that she had missed. The strength it gave her left her in a very different state of mind then when she started. It wasn't long before her need for comfort took a backseat; as she soon found her loneliness distracted by his form. She separated from him with a tingling in her groin, but not sure of herself enough to consider whether it was something she wanted to act upon. Instead, she rolled over onto her other side, grabbing his arm and pulling it around her so that this time, he was spooned around her for a change. She felt him shift so as not to be pressing inappropriately into her buttocks.

Hinamori found that disappointing. She got over it quickly enough by squishing back into him and making herself... _comfortable._ The sensation sparked her like a kilowatt to the tongue - and with an unceremonious tug, she placed his hand over her covered breast and held it there; just to see what he would do. He cupped it in a non-erotic fashion, as though he was merely trying to embrace her appropriately, and hugged her warmly. She knew that there was no way he would be able to sleep like this, but she didn't care.

Momo fell asleep knowing that there was still hope that she could live and love.

-:-

Morgan awoke the next morning unable to conceive of how he ever managed to fall asleep. His hand was clenched against her chest and his lap was positioned in a rather inappropriate fashion _far_ too tightly up against her bottom. He also found himself absentmindedly stroking her covered nipple with his thumb, and when the realization arrived that he was actually doing that, he stopped immediately and began to panic. He was _so_ going to roast in Hell.

"Go to the bathroom," she whispered tenderly. Apparently she was awake and had chosen not to move. "And then come back."

Without a word, he hastily withdrew. Morgan, who by now was trying to figure out how badly Hinamori was going to make him burn for this, went to the bathroom to relieve himself. As he washed his hands and then brushed his teeth, he was shockingly unsure of what awaited him when he returned. "Harumia," he swore under his breath. Then he cursed himself for using a goddess's name in vain.

Exiting from his private bathroom, Hinamori beckoned him into bed. He hesitated but complied, but he was cautious and came around from the side that faced her this time. He lifted the covers (noting with an internal sigh of relief that she hadn't undressed any further in his absence) and lay down next to her, although he left space between them. If she was going to make any kind of move, he wanted it to be her decision.

She scooted over to him and lay her head on his shoulder again, giving him a brief peck on the chest and then his cheek. After at least eleven minutes of quiet stillness, Hinamori reached for his face and kissed him on the mouth; passionately and vigorously. He participated wholeheartedly in the event, but otherwise didn't move in her direction. His only other movement was that his hands clenched the sheets. It was his only semi-effective means of self-restraint.

When she was finished, she propped herself up on an elbow. "When was the last time you made love?" she asked him with straight face. Her tone was inquisitive and surprisingly noninvasive or accusatory.

"...Not since I was married," he admitted.

"Bullshit," she smirked. "You're too charismatic and far too nice."

"An' yoos?" he fired back, not letting her get away with such a personal interrogation.

She lay back down against his chest, allowing her fingers to stroke him from collar to navel and then back up again. She liked feeling him shiver from it. "Never," she confessed.

"Bullshit," he replied. "Yerr far too much o' a tease."

Momo laughed. "You never lie, and I suck at it; so we must both be telling the truth," she admitted.

"Guess so."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Momo said, although Morgan wasn't sure where that comment came from.

"Yoos nevva disappoint me," he returned, and she could hear the nervousness in his voice.

Momo pulled the sheet back and straddled him. She could feel his arousal through their thin pajamas; she liked it. A lot. _"Never?"_

Morgan gulped. He was pretty sure whatever he said, it was going to be the wrong answer. "I's plead the fifth."

She kissed him again, her tongue tracing the edge of his teeth. During this endeavor, she was deliberately jamming him into her tightly; immensely enjoying her little triumph over his _astonishing_ quantity of willpower. She arched her head and cupped the back of his head to force his lips to taste her neck and then her collar, pulling his head into her chest until he was tenderly kissing her breastbone.

And then, without warning, she hopped off of him. With a sinister, seditious, tantalizing smile, she watched him gasp for air, his chest heaving heavily. With attention drawn to his involuntary salute, she baited him. "And how about _now?_"

Before Morgan could reply, Momo turned away from him, and with a sashaying of her hips, she paused to look over her shoulder at him in the doorway. Feeling devilish, Momo mooned him; allowing him to get a good, long stare at her ass. Then she pulled up her boxers and slammed the door behind her.

Morgan, for the first time in a very long while, discovered that he was completely incapacitated. He decided that he was going to write a ten thousand dollar check to charity today. Something to benefit orphans or child cancer patients or starving children in a third-world country. Or maybe all three. Either way, he was going to need some _serious_ penance for the very, _very_ dirty thoughts crossing through his mind.

Cold shower, he thought. _Cold shower. Cold shower._

-:-

When Morgan came down to the kitchen, he found toast with jam and a large cup of black coffee waiting for him. Hinamori was nowhere to be found, but he supposed that she had done that deliberately. He had a feeling she understood that their morning encounter had required some time to cool down.

Understatement of the year, he thought.

He sat down, but before he could take a sip out of his coffee, he found himself with a blade at his throat out of nowhere. Considering that Morgan had never been successfully ambushed before, it was a touch alarming.

He couldn't see who it was, but the voice behind him was from a young woman, and the English was laced with an accent that most would believe was Russian, but Morgan knew to be Aizerbaijani. "Don't move, and then this will be easy for all of us."

"No problum," he said easily.

The smallest female he had ever seen suddenly appeared in front of him, and Morgan instantly realized he was in the deepest shit he had ever seen in his many, many lives on Earth. He recognized her from Smith's deck of cards. The King of Clubs - vice captain Kuchiki Rukia. Except she wasn't a lieutenant anymore.

Morgan knew his sins had come to catch up with him. The haori on the tiny lady's shoulders left him with a divinely-inspired dread that his time had come to meet his Maker. Harumia's Gift had finally summoned him full circle. The Goddess Kuchiki Rukia before him was no longer a vice captain in the celestial legions of the Afterlife.

The Archangels had come to complete what they had started.

-:-

"It is abandoned," Komamura commented as they entered the underground laboratory of Central 46's Basement 19. "Although it appears to have recently been in use."

"Seems like there was a lot going on here," Nanao thought out loud. "The air is full of a wild assortment of reishi."

Hisagi picked up a piece of paper off of a workbench and started reading it. Something he saw startled him. "Nan-chan," he asked, forgetting his formality for a moment, "Why is your zanpakutou on this list?"

Nanao took it from him and scanned the list of entries. "Shit - this is an omega register." She regretted voicing that out loud, as all of a sudden she had far more eyes on her than she would have liked.

Renji grimaced. "That can't be a good sign."

"I concur," Byakuya added. "To what effect would that take us?"

"We have bigger problems than a discarded sheet of paper," Ichihime dismissed, pointing to a broken glass canister. "Is it just me, or do I have a vague feeling that there was something important in there?"

Nanao and the Soutaicho were the only ones who knew that the Hougyoku had been there, but many of the others in the room had suspected it.

"Hey," Renji called from another area of the lab. "Looks like blood over here."

Nanao was the first to turn her attention in Renji's direction, and she could tell immediately. "Fuwu," she sighed.

"It's fresh, too," Renji commented. "Hasn't even dried yet."

Ichihime withdrew her tanto. "Then whoever did this is still here."

Komamura's ears twitched. "Wait - "

"What is it?" Yamamoto asked, knowing the Kenpachi long enough to trust the superiority of his hearing.

_"Everybody out!"_ Komamura shouted, grabbing Hisagi by the collar because he was closest. Byakuya flashed off, and Ichihime managed to nab Ise-senpai the Slowpoke back to the elevator.

_"Bakudo #81: Severing Void,"_ Byakuya, Nanao, and Yamamoto cast simultaneously before the elevator doors could close - just in time to see the bomb's explosion go off.

-:-

Morgan's breath was held tighter than his belt buckle earlier this morning. The miniscule archangel was peering at him with the intense disdain of a superior being - which she most certainly was. He would have assumed she was no older than fifteen in human years, but the wedding ring on her left hand clued him in that it was unlikely she was in adolescence.

It gave him an interesting recall. Harumia had been the only other archangel he had seen with a wedding ring.

The archangel finally put one hand on her hip and sighed. _"Iie,"_ she said. Morgan assumed it was Japanese. _"Hanzai ja nai."_

The blade was pulled away from his throat, but Morgan was swiftly pulled out of his chair, and it was kicked away. The unknown assailant threw him to his knees, and then came around to upend the table out of the way with a single hand. Morgan knew the intention was to make a clear impression: that she could toss him like a pigskin with zero trouble. He didn't doubt it.

Morgan got a good look at her now. She was tall - at least six feet - and a gorgeous golden blond. She wore a standard shinigami uniform with white gloves and a look that said 'I will whip your ass if you try anything funny'. Morgan wasn't sure, but if he correctly placed the face, she was the Eight of Clubs (although he couldn't remember the name). He didn't know she would be so tall, though. "Beg and grovel at the mercy of my sensei," the blonde giant ordered him at swordpoint.

"Praise be the Angels of the Afterlife forevva and evva," he said as though he had rehearsed this line his entire life. (He had.) "I's not wuhrrthy ta call meeself yerr humble surrvent. I's Morgan, at yerr survuss."

The raven-haired beauty in front of him finally spoke in English. It was impeccable in diction. Morgan was shocked to find that, instead of what he expected would be a thick Japanese accent, that her English flowed freely like a native speaker from Singapore. It was nothing like Hinamori's Korean English at all. "Give me a reason not to kill you."

"My life izz butta wish of tha Archangels of Tomorrow," he said ceremoniously. "If there's be good reason fer me ta die, then I's accept it as my judgement, Heavenly Judge of Fate."

The Eight seemed to have no interest in his piety, and hauled him off the floor until his feet were dangling in the air. "What did you do to Hinamori?" the Aizerbaijani asked.

"I's juss helpin' 'er ree-koop-purr-rate, dat's all," he strained himself to answer with his shirt collar tightening around his throat.

_"Yamero, Kotetsu,"_ Kuchiki ordered. Morgan recalled the blonde's name as the latter word, and assumed the the first was an order to put him down - because she threw him into the wall with a significant amount of disgusst.

Yet despite the obvious manhandling he was receiving from the lieutenant, Morgan knew enough to know that the one to be afraid of was the archangel. It would be Kuchiki who decided whether he lived or died. His eyes never left her, and she perceived that he awaited her interrogation.

"Why did she come here?" the diminutive-in-stature-yet-giant-in-presence woman inquired.

"Ta get away," he answered honestly. "Ta be somewhere safe."

"You call this place safe?"

Knowing that his response was going to get him into deep shit, he let it out anyway. "I's respeck yer right to call me the sinna that I am, buts I's nots tha one ta let her get cut up by Kyoo."

The tension in the room was broken by a ridiculously loud barking. "_HINAMORI-BAKA!_ _BAKE GA_, BAKA BAKA BAKAYARO! KUSO-FUKOTAICHO NO _BAKE GA_ KISAMA WA! SHINPAI NASSAI DE WAI NAI, **_BAKAYARO!_**"

The Kuchiki woman in front of him let out a frustrated sigh. "_Tch. 'Take, Nee-sama. Honto ne jubun na, ne?_"

_"Mendakutsei,"_ the tall one muttered.

The Kuchiki returned her attention to him. Her glare was less harsh this time. "I know you're not Q," she admitted. "I've fought Q before. But you're a member of an organization at odds with the shinigami. You'd best explain why an MIA lieutenant is in your house."

Morgan breathed deeply. He was being given a chance here. "I's one o' many aijints in Smith's oppuhrayshunn who wurked to undermine his kuntroll. We's was stealin' his stolen zann-pack-toh frumma his vaults be-for' yoos shinigami destroyed Dovafield. Wunna da ones we's found was Ayzen's rezzerr-eck-ted soard."

"Kyouka Suigetsu?" the blonde one uttered in astonishment.

"Yeahs, dat one," he nodded. "Now I knows how danjerous that mothafucka is, anna if Smith o' Q o' anyone else get dair hands onnit, then we's all gonna fuckin' die; so I's wurked wit' my fella rebels ta find Hinamori anna we's gave it ta her. She's da only wunn we's thought koulda be trusted wit' sumptin' dat danjerous. We's binna frennnds evva since."

Morgan didn't even see Kuchiki move. It was as if the span of an instantaneous moment, a white-ribboned, white-bladed katana was barely grazing twixt his eyes. "You gave Hinamori _Kyouka Suigetsu_?" With a flick of her sword, she batted a bead of sweat off of his nose. Had he blinked, he would have missed it, for he was staring down the katana's shaft again. "Explain everything, human, or you will have much worse waiting for you than the Afterlife."

-:-

Momo froze in shock. She had just finished getted dressed in her shinigami uniform when the door to her guest room swung open. Without turning around, she knew it couldn't have been Morgan - he was far too respectful of her personal space, even if she _had_ just driven him up a flagpole - but she never would have expected her captain to be there.

And _holy shit_ was Shiba Kuukaku pissed.

_"HINAMORI-BAKA!"_ she yelled at the top of her lungs. "YOU _MORON_ - YOU STUPID, IMBECILIC BLOCKHEAD! YOU GODDAMN VICE CAPTAIN OF _IDIOTS_! YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO MAKE ME WORRY LIKE THAT, YOU _**DUMBASS**!_"

And before Hinamori could stop cringing from the absurd ringing in her ears, she was being squeezed tighter than she ever could have imagined. Kuukaku was crying in her ear. "You _dumbass_," she whispered. "You dumbass, you don't run away and not take me with you, you _stupid,_ stupid dumbass, you hear me?"

Hinamori could barely squeak. Being court-marshalled, that she could have expected. Being hugged by her captain? Not what she had anticipated. "Huh?"

Kuukaku pulled away from Momo and stuck her short arm right in Hinamori's face, resting the tip of her bandaged appendage on Hinamori's forehead - a gesture which nearly had Momo's gut turn inside out. It was a highly personal moment, and Momo's astonished look in mismatched eyes gazed almost out-of-focus at her teary-eyed taicho. "Momo-san," Kuukaku whispered, "you don't ever run away from me again, you promise?"

"Shiba Taicho -"

_"Never!"_ Kuukaku said firmly. "You need to escape, you call me and tell me to take you to the outer rims of nowhere. You need to kill someone who wronged you, you bring me along to watch your back while you butcher the dumb fuck. You need to burn the world because you hate it for everything it did to you, you ask me to bring the matches. But never, never, _never_ run away from me. I am your _captain_ and your _friend_, and it's my job to take care of you when you're hurting the most, and I'll fucking _slaughter_ your moronic ass before you keep me from standing behind you, you understand?"

Momo was just dumbfounded and couldn't say anything.

_"You understand? !"_ Kuukaku shouted at her.

Momo's face began to scrunch up, and she began to cry. Realization dawning on her that her captain was serious, she nodded in tears, and Kuukaku's hug came around her again; enveloping her in a warm, loving, parental embrace that unexpectedly promised safety, love, and concern. The two women fell to their knees in a heaving heap of lachrymose emotion. "Sshh," Kuukaku comforted her, caressing the budding peach fuzz on Momo's head. "I swear, Momo-kun, you do that again, I'll fucking kill you," Kuukaku said affectionately. "You take me with you next time, I don't care how harebrained it is. You tell me you that you want to smoke crack until your eyes bleed, and I'll get you a goddamn pipe. Just tell me, okay? _Just tell me."_

"O-o-o-kay," Momo choked through her tears, nodding. She felt ashamed of herself. She had been stupid to think that there was no one back home thinking of her. (Of course, the fact that Kuukaku had mastered the art of motherly guilt made it even harder to resist.)

"Goddamn it, Momo-kun," Kuukaku whispered in her ear. "You had me so worried. I was worried that bastard came back for you." Kuukaku held Momo tightly, not wanting to let the poor broken girl out of her sight. "Why did you come _here_, though?"

Momo could barely squeeze out words; she was hiccuping and crying and trying to stop hyperventilating. It felt good to cry; good to cry in her captain's shoulder and know that she still had a place where she would be accepted. She had been crying a lot these past few days, and every time she did, it felt like a little piece of her soul was put back. "It's safe here," she managed to explain. "He's a friend."

Kuukaku sighed. Friend, huh? She knew all about human friends. First her brother leaves the Royal Guard to get hitched to a redhead, then sister-in-law married one (not that Kuukaku objected), and then Hitsugaya Taicho got himself wrapped up in one. Now her vice captain, too. She wondered what the allure was. (Which was pretty ironic, considering that Shiba Kuukaku had doggedly chased after the stone-cold Kuchiki Byakuya until he finally agreed to even consider her as a potential spouse.) "Is he _your_ friend, or _our_ friend?"

Hinamori understood the question: Shiba Taicho was asking if the shinigami could trust him. "Ours," she said firmly. "He knows Q and wants to kill him."

Kuukaku nodded, and then helped Hinamori to her feet. "Listen to me - are you listening?"

Momo nodded.

"I'll trust you. You can tell me what happened whenever you want, but you're going to tell me _everything._ And you can come back here, and hang out with your 'friend', whenever you want - _but you tell me,_ okay?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Kuukaku couldn't help herself and dived into Hinamori with another giant hug. "Kami, you _dumbass,_" she muttered again. "You are so fucking smart, but you can be _such_ a dumbass."

"Sorry," Momo apologized. "I'm sorry, Taicho."

Kuukaku pulled away and smiled, relieved. "Fukutaicho," she said firmly. "I'm your taicho, and you're my fukutaicho. No matter what happens - even if all hell breaks loose, I will be there for you. Who do you think I am, Aizen the second?"

Momo's eyes went wide. She couldn't believe what her captain just said to her. "N-n-no!"

"Fuck right, you are - so don't _ever_ put me in a position where I can't stand behind you."

Momo heaved out the last of her emotion as she tried to get a handle on her composure. "Okay."

Kuukaku exhaled loudly. "I swear, Momo-kun, you make me feel like an old lady sometimes."

"Sorry, taicho."

"No more apologies," Kuukaku dismissed. "Just truths. This guy you're hanging out with - do we need to do a memory wipe, or can we leave this the way we found it?"

"No, no," Hinamori insisted. "Please don't - he can be trusted. He's on our side."

Kuukaku eyed Hinamori carefully. "You, eh, canoodle under the sheets with him?"

"Taicho!"

"Answer the question, Momo. I need to know how involved you and him are, so I can figure out how objective you are being."

Momo sighed. She couldn't complain; it was a small price to pay for what otherwise amounted to a get-out-of-jail-free card. And this was Shiba Taicho. Shiba Kuukaku had no qualms about reaching her hand straight down your throat (or up your ass, for that matter) if she wanted to get something out of you. "No," she sighed.

"Is that a 'no' as in _'no way'_, or 'no' as in _'not yet'_?" Kuukaku asked insightfully.

Momo studied her socks in embarrassment. "...Not yet."

Kuukaku raised her eyebrows. "Tell me, Momo-kun - is he worth it?"

Momo looked askance. "I'm a virgin," she said, rather bitter as it came out. "So I don't know."

Kuukaku forced Momo to look her in the eye. "Don't give me that bullshit. That's not what I'm asking you. Do you think he's good enough to deserve you?"

Hinamori hesitated. "Yes." It was a surprising answer. Momo was amazed that she believed she was good enough to be deserved.

"Then fine," Kuukaku said agreeably. "I just want to make sure you're not doing something stupid, like rebounding off of Kira-kun or something."

Momo was aghast. "Taicho!"

Kuukaku's glare put her lieutenant in her place. "Don't give me that. Kira-kun wrecked you, and you didn't say _one word_ to me. I'm a Head of House and a captain - do you have any idea how awkward it was for me to ask around and find out why my cheery lieutenant had suddenly turned into a grim specter of black death? I need you to be in your right mind, Hinamori Fukutaicho. You're welcome to take your life in any direction you want, but I'll be _damned_ if I'm going to let you fall down a hole because you're too much of an _idiot_ to come talk to me! _That's not how friends take care of the people they care about!"_

Momo blinked stupidly. This entire conversation was giving her a completely different perspective on her life and on how loved she really was - but in a _highly_ awkward way.

Kuukaku, for her part, knew that she was being a bit invasive; and so she backed down a bit. Hand on hip, she closed her eyes and dismissed the whole topic. "Look, I don't care if you're sleeping with a human or not, as long as you aren't doing something stupid. If he's good enough to deserve you, then fine. And if he's not, then I don't want you to waste your time on some loser 'cause you're trying to move past some other loser. But either way, I need you to be _strong_, and I can't have you being emotionally paralyzed - you have to stop slaying yourself because some prick stuck his prick where it didn't belong."

That snapped Momo to attention. She had heard this phrase twice in the past twenty-four hours; once from Morgan and now again from Shiba Taicho. That was a jolting coincidence - enough that it hit her harder than a slap to the face: perhaps it was actually true. Maybe she had been slaying herself. Maybe she could get up and be strong. Perhaps her only sin was believing Izuru's dalliance had been her fault. With a weak smile, Hinamori braved a semi-serious comment. "I didn't know you cared so much about my nightlife."

Kuukaku smiled and went all smirky. In a ridiculous pose, she hefted her breasts up and bounced them around to make a point. "Meh, I need a good fuck every now and then, too; but of course, I'm married and my man does a good job. You could probably use a good fuck every now and then, too; it would do wonders for your anxiety. But if you're gonna go for it, you might as well do it with the right guy. I can guarantee it's much better that way."

Momo went wide-eyed with surprise as she absorbed what-in-the-name-of-fuck she was witnessing. This was just... batshit insane. Straight out of Alice in Wonderland. "I cannot believe my taicho just said that." Or did that. Wow, _way_ too much, Taicho.

"Let me know if you want advice," Kuukaku offered sincerely. "Seriously. I'm here for you when you need. No matter what it is."

Momo let the air escape her lungs, feeling as though a great burden had been lifted off of her shoulders. "Thanks, Taicho."

Kuukaku gave her another hug with a smile, and patted her on the head. "Now I have a favor to ask you," Kuukaku cautioned. "I brought Isane Fukutaicho all the way here, because I wanted to see it with my own eyes that you're okay. So I'm going to ask you to put up with a medical inspection so that I can sleep at night knowing that my lieutentant is actually in good health."

Momo sighed. She didn't want yet another medical exam, but she owed it to Shiba Taicho to comply. It was the least she could do to show her appreciation for the olive branch that her captain had just handed her. "Okay."

"Alright. Let's get things settled in here - I know the others are worried about you. Rukia-san even put aside the messy 3rd division just to come and see if you were okay. Then we can get you examined so that I'm not staring at the ceiling at 2am wondering if you're dying somewhere, okay?"

Momo smiled. Shiba Taicho was such a mother. "Okay."

Kuukaku breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. C'mon."

Momo nodded, and in a spirit of equally deep relief, followed her captain out of the guest room.

-:-

"Yessir, I's did," Morgan confirmed carefully. "I's told her she's koulda throw it inna tha ocean fer all I care, buts dats fer her ta decide. Alls I's asked was that when da shinigami kumm to blow Smith ta Kingdom Come, dat's deys don'ts kill offa the rest o' us proppa folk hoos be savin' peeples frum hollows."

_"Oi - Kuchiki-oujotaicho,"_ came a voice from Morgan's side, and he glanced to his left to see the tallest female he had ever possibly seen. She must have been at _least_ seven feet tall, with a silvery poof of hair and an enormous katana to match. _"Heki desu! Hinamori wa daijobu desu yo - kore agent-san ga tomodachi da."_

_"Kore wa tomodachi honto ka? Kisama wa kare o kiku ka?"_

_"Eh? Nani?"_

_"Kare wa Aizen no katana o ataeta yo!"_

_"Aizen no katana!"_

_"Ah! **Aizen no zanpakutou** deshou!"_

_"Shimata,"_ the silver-haired collossus answered with a wide-eyed whistle, and that was when Morgan recognized her as the Four of Clubs.

The conversation was interrupted when Hinamori entered shamefacedly, with another haori-clad archangel. Just my luck, Morgan thought to himself. This one was the only average-height lady of the bunch, around five-and-a-half feet. It was hard to tell from his kneeling position on the floor, and the sword resting on the tip of his nose made it hard for him to get a good look. She had spiky, messy brown hair pulled back by a red headband, and she seemed to be missing part of her arm. What he noticed most, though, being the poor sinner that he was, was that she possessed the biggest, plumpest, jiggliest, bounciest breasts he had ever seen. She must have been a 38-triple-H or something. They were so big it was almost gross; no normal human could have breasts that big and not fall over. He absentmindedly wondered if shinigami could get back pain from something like that.

"Are you Morgan?" she asked. Like Kuchiki, her English was refined, smooth, proper and precise. However, hers was heavily intoned with a thick Spanish; almost Catalonian.

"I's am."

Kuchiki looked at her out of the corner of her eye. The white sword was still trained on Morgan. _"Nee-sama?"_

_"Daijobu, daijobu,"_ Boobies answered. Morgan breathed a sigh of relief when the smallest woman of the group put her sword back in it's sheath; the white ribbon vanishing in the process.

To Morgan's surprise, the jiggly archangel helped him to his feet. Morgan was exceedingly careful to maintain eye contact, lest his vision gravitate elsewhere. "Thank you for taking care of Lieutenant Hinamori."

Before Morgan could get a word in edgewise, the flurry of Japanese in the room collapsed on top of him like an avalanche. Kuchiki was immediately protesting, and all of a sudden, Hinamori found herself backing into a corner. Without thinking, Morgan immediately moved in front of her as the heated argument between the two archangels turned into a storm of shouts from Boobies and cold, calculated verbal swipes from Kuchiki.

The Four of Clubs stepped in between the archangels' quarrel, and pointed at Hinamori. Morgan himself barely noticed that she was hiding behind him, desperately clutching his shoulder. He stared back at the gang of four goddesses with a look of equal parts fear and disdain. Well, actually, ninety percent fear and ten percent determination. "I's don'ts knows whatchoos arguin' 'bout, buts she's done nothin' wrong. Yoos kinna punish me all yoos wants, buts I's refuse ta let her be tha skapegoat."

Boobies turned to face Morgan, and now that he was looking at her face, he vaguely recalled that she was the Five of Spades - _Hinamori's boss!_ Shiba something-or-other, he couldn't remember. She had to be the head of this operation. "Hinamori-kun, did he really give you Kyouka Suigetsu?" she asked defeatedly in English, obviously for his benefit.

_"Hai,"_ Momo answered instinctively in Japanese, out of sheer military habit. _"Kare ga ita."_

"You know that makes him singularly untrustworthy," Boobies continued in English. "He could be trying to corrupt you."

"Now _that's_ something I _seriously_ doubt," came a voice from down the hall. Everyone turned to see a figure emerge, and Morgan was the first to pull pistol and put six bullets in the air. They bounced off the man like they were nothing but rubber spitballs.

The four visiting shinigami were instantly in formation in front of Hinamori and Morgan, and the trespasser introduced himself. "You'd have to be crazy to think Morgan could try something underhanded. See, you guys don't know Morgan like I do. He's the most honest, goody-two-shoes, faithful, pious, holy, loyal, morally righteous, sacred, respectful, kind, generous, charitable ass-kissing ass I know. He couldn't corrupt a broke politician with a cocaine addiction, much less a shinigami. Which, of course, is one of the many reasons why I hate him."

It was Kuchiki who spat the name. _"Q."_

"In the flesh!" he smiled, and pulled a sword from a sheath on his back. "Shall we begin the climax in this epic story, or can I just kill that sanctimonious bastard you got back there, and we can get this over with quickly? 'Cause it would be really nice if I wouldn't have to skip breakfast."

* * *

_Reviews, please! There has to be a ton in here to comment on. I'd really like to hear what you think about Momo's development. Next chapter: **War.**_


	50. Blur to Black

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

**_Translator's note: _**_"Ksa" is a deliberately misromanized "kuso", which means "crap"._

* * *

_"What do you know of loneliness?"  
__~ a comment almost uttered from the mouth of the self-repressive Kuchiki Hisako, around two centuries in the future_

_"You know how 'Karu-san hates it when they start yapping. It pisses her off since she can't really participate. The closest she ever comes to battle taunts is to kill the hollow first, and only then does she give them the finger."_  
_~ Hitsugaya Makahiro, relating Kuchiki Hikaru's disdain for banter when fighting_

_"For many, there is no desire to perpetrate great evil. It is impossible for them to understand that for others, the temptation can be a tantalizing siren; beckoning the soul to step one foot into sin, and then another and another. Thus some are eternally challenged; lusting to commit evil, be it a trivial theft or an unspeakable atrocity. The Fateshaper tests us all, and we must not fail Him, no matter how difficult. That is Saya-dono's greatness - for despite these inclinations, she chooses righteousness; and this is ultimately why she is most worthy of her role as Master Judge in Hell. Unfortunately, sometimes it is difficult to know how to choose the correct path."_  
_~ __Handoshi _Colonel Hajimata Percival, Cavaliere of Brigadier General Chibaniki Saya (aka Ise Nanao); explaining to one of his many sergeants why anyone who falls from grace is responsible for his or her own actions

_"Go find me a dozen murderers, rapists, and tyrannical dictators. I need to torture someone who deserves it."_  
_~ Argimus Lethicus Haupt, Colonel of the 10th Handoshi Legion, to one of his sergeants; depressed because Hikifune (Shiba) Miyako declined a second date with him _

* * *

Immediately after releasing six rounds, Morgan hit the emergency button on the special beeper in his pocket. It was an emergency call button to his partner - Q had shown himself. Now his archenemy was prepared to take on two archangels and their immediate reports. Morgan didn't think Johnson would contribute much at this point, but better that he wasn't chasing ghosts somewhere else.

Q, for his part, wasn't happy that they wouldn't hand Morgan over. "No? Well, I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way - **_*hurk*_**"

_Splick. Thwit. Oomph. Thud. Thwack._

-:-

Ichihime flinched as the eardrum-busting explosion pounded against the triple bakudo shield. She was pretty sure that they weren't going to get roasted - Glasses-senpai could probably hold a Severing Void barrier while taking a dump, level 81 spell or not - but that wasn't what worried her. What worried her was the snapping, crackling sound.

She had heard that gut-crunching rending once before, a decade ago. It was a fight she would never forget - her vice captain's evaluation for the 6th division. It had been the first time she had ever met Shorty-senpai face to face, and at the time, Shorty had been mistakenly under the impression that Ichihime was trying to separate her from the man who is now her husband, Kurosaki Ichigo. During that fight, Shorty's reiatsu had approached mythological proportions and her katana started to literally cut open the fabric of the universe. That unbelievable raw power left an electric sizzle in the air like nothing Ichihime had ever heard before.

Right now, that same sound was coming at them, except five thousand times louder - and from all sides. _"Ksa!"_ Ichihime swore. She couldn't believe it - this kind of stuff was only supposed to happen in bad science fiction novels that she didn't read. "It's a timequake!"

Thinking quickly, Nanao radioed into the 12th on her commlink. "Basement 19 calling in - zero in our coordinates!"

Rantao's voice came through over the explosion into Nanao's ear. "I've got you locked!"

_"Prepare for impact!"_ roared Yamamoto.

With a hurling, grinding, snapping; the timequake caught up with the elevator. Nanao, Byakuya and Yamamoto reinforced the bakudo that enveloped them with a multitude of additional barriers; sealing them directly into the walls of their current enclosure. Suddenly propelled through void, the glass and metal elevator began to fall through nothingness.

"Where are we?" Hisagi asked.

"If my guess is correct," Renji speculated from his experience in journeying to Hueco Mundo, "the nothingness between worlds." Of the current sortie, only him and Byakuya had travelled through hollow-created passages before.

"That creep knew we were coming," Nanao muttered.

"So how do we get out of here?" Ichihime asked.

"With difficulty," Byakuya answered. "We need a garganta."

"A _garganta_? !" Ichihime sputtered. "And how the hell are we going to get one of _those_?"

"Urahara Kisuke," Byakuya stated coldly. He hated depending on that man even more than he hated depending on his sneaky-cat wife.

Nanao called in to the 12th. "Hello?"

"Still here," Rantao confirmed.

"Where's Urahara Taicho?"

"Not here. Red alert in downtown Sereitei. All resident captains have been dispatched."

"What? !" Nanao asked. "What's going on?"

"Vasto lorde," Rantao explained. "Urahara Taicho, Shihoin Taicho, Kyouraku Taicho, and Ukitake Taicho are all on it. Unohana Taicho is on standby."

"What in the name of Heaven?" Nanao swore. Whatever happened to the Secret Peace? "I thought Urahara had that under control!"

"Something about 'when the shark is away, the guppies play'," Kiku replied, obviously baffled. "I had no idea what he was talking about."

"Oh Kami, we are fucked," Nanao swore. Four captains would not be enough, even if three of them were old-guard powerhouses. Unless Papa or Jushiro broke out their bankai, it was going to be a mess. "How bad is it? How many are out there?"

"I don't know," Rantao asked. "Information is still limited at the moment. All I know is that Shihoin Taicho called and asked Urahara Taicho to pick up her zanpakutou on the way there."

Nanao's shoulders drooped in despair. "That means it must be baaaaaaaaad."

"Hey, Senpai, you going to fill us in?" Ichihime asked, impatient.

Nanao turned to the Soutaicho. "The Secret Peace broke down. A legion of vasto lorde rebelling in the King's absence. At least, that's what Urahara thinks."

"UNACCEPTABLE!" roared Yamamoto.

"Not much we can do about it now," Renji muttered.

" 'The Secret Peace'?" Hisagi and Ichihime asked together.

"Not now," Byakuya indicated to Ichihime. She had security clearance now that she was a captain, but obviously hadn't quite been filled in yet. With Hisagi there, they couldn't explain.

"Rantao Fukutaicho, do you think you can get us out of here?" Hisagi called over, hoping Nanao's commlink would pick up the question.

"Not sure," Kiku frowned. "I'll see what I can do."

"What is the conclusion, Ise Shosho?" Komamura asked.

"We play the waiting game," Nanao sighed, sharing the same scowl as the (almost literally) burning-mad Soutaicho. "And hope that by the time we get out, there's something left to save."

-:-

"So that's why Q was afraid of Smith," Hitsugaya realized, voicing his thoughts out loud in his Chilean-accented Ukranian. "It's why he never went out of line in Smith's operation."

"Exactly," Johnson explained.

"So where is Morgan now?"

"In his vacation house, upstate."

"I need to see him," Toshiro insisted. "How can I get there?"

Johnson's beeper went off, and after glancing at it, he swore. "You'd better hurry," he said, showing it to Toshiro.

Hitsugaya's resolve steeled. He wanted to dash over there, but it wouldn't help. He had a plan, and in order to make it work, he needed to make a pitstop first. With a terse nod, he opened a senkai gate. A shortcut through the Dankai would be risky, but if he got lucky, he could shave off time.

Johnson watched as the gates to the Passage opened and closed. He reflected upon his luck. Whether it was good or bad, he didn't know.

-:-

Rukia had no patience for this. _Scum don't get to give speeches._

"No? Well, I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way - **_*hurk*_**"

With a senka flicker, she was behind Q. Sode no Shirayuki's white shikai blade needled straight through his stomach, slicing through his spinal cord and puncturing out the front of his body; freezing everything to ice so as not to spatter blood on her clean haori. _"Shirofune,"_ she commanded, and in her free hand, a matching katana made of ice formed in less than a quarter of a second. With fluid motion and a swift _thwick_, she decapitated him; leaving a sealing layer of ice above and below the cut.

A prompt kick dislodged Q from Rukia's zanpakutou, and the loose head was thrown into the air. Like a practiced javelineer, Rukia hurled the ice sword like a spear, impaling the head mid-air. The icicle impalement continued its path of flight until it landed at Morgan's feet, lodged point-first in the floor with the gasping expression painted around the implement's exit between its eyes.

_Scum don't get to die with dignity, either._

"That is the fate of those who harm my most precious and beloved friends," Rukia stared coldly into Morgan's eyes.

Morgan blanched. It was the most brutally efficient execution he had ever witnessed. In two seconds, she had disposed of the worst stain humanity had ever come to meet in a ruthlessly inexorable guillotining. He had been right to fear the Archangel over the blonde giant. "Underrstood, Ma'am," he promised, as sincerely as he possible could. Which goes without saying, was more sincere then nearly most any other person on the planet was capable of.

Momo herself was in shock. She tentatively arose from her semi-crouching defensive stance, with Savior in hand. Footsteps lightly padded on the wooden floor; she arrived at the discarded body of the man who had torn her insides out with a hesitation that could not be paralleled. It was a disbelief that was hard to push aside.

And then she lost all restraint. Over and over, Hinamori savagely stabbed the fallen body; wailing with a sociopathic spiral her eyes, stabbing and thrusting and revelling in the blood; _the blood,_ it was so much blood; spraying and spurting and gushing; burbling up only by sheer force as Momo swung her Savior down at the corpse in a two-handed downswipe from her knees, cleaving the shoulder blades open down to bare bone. The gore was _fantastic;_ she could see the battered chunks of marrow pushing up through sinew; tendons snapping like broken rubber bands; internal organs having their glistening tissue exposed to the open air. It was beautiful and erotic and titillating and made Momo want to fuck herself so hard she would explode into a orgasmic orgy of violent desire.

"Momo-san," Isane hesitated, worried. This was somewhat expected, but Isane could clearly tell that the savagery was too fierce and not necessarily healthy.

Hinamori only stopped when Kuukaku interfered, knocking her katana away with her own sword. Kuukaku then let Firefly thunk softly on the wooden floor. Momo's captain dropped to her knees for the second time today to hold her charge in an embrace. The screaming, crying, heartbroken Hinamori just wailed and wailed and wailed, forgetting her rage and dark, twisted lust. The better half of her instead chose to attempt to soak in the finality; the end, the "over-ness" of the situation. It was too long in coming, and too short in staying.

At that point in time, two very different people were thinking two very similar things. One was Morgan. In the end, Morgan had been a fool to believe that he could heal the gods. The gods will lean on their own kind to aid them. What can a mortal do? He was far out of his league. He would die long before Hinamori likely ever reached full celestial adulthood, no matter if the two archangels in the room had granted him permission to live. And she had a lot to work through - some serious counseling looked to be in order.

Rukia was the other. She was deeply disheartened, for there was nothing she could offer Momo. It was at that juncture that Rukia realized that, while she would always be Hinamori's friend, they would never be as close as they once were. Rukia wasn't the person that Momo would come to from now on when times were tough. Their friendship had fallen a notch. To Rukia, it was a tragedy. Now more than ever, she wished she could have been comrades; to have fought side-by-side. That kind of closeness never fades. Their friendship, in which Momo had started the superior - as Rukia's kido sensei during her pre-lieutenant training days - had now seen Rukia propelled forward, married and one of the strongest captains in the Gotei 13. Rukia was proud of her accomplishments, but at the moment she felt disgusted with herself; like she had left Momo behind in a cloud of dust. It didn't matter that Momo was less than half of Rukia's age; Rukia still felt awful. She should have taken Momo with her on that journey. How come she didn't? How come she couldn't? The guilt hung on her tiny frame like Senzaikyu had once held her long ago.

"Momo-kun," Kuukaku whispered. "He can't hurt you anymore. He can't hurt anyone anymore. It's over. Come - let's go home."

Hinamori exhaled weepily and got up. She was eager to put this behind her. "One minute," she said softly, and walked over to Morgan.

Morgan, ever the gentleman, offered her a hankerchief. "Yoos be a-lookin' lika yoos mights wants ta blow yerr nose," he smiled tenderly.

She let out a small laugh, and, seeing as though she had no choice, took it from him and cleaned herself up.

"Keep 'it," he suggested. "I'd be 'ahnerred."

She gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "You're just lazy and don't want to wash it."

He laughed. "Nunna uss ah perrfeckt."

"No," she shook her head sweetly. "I disagree." And then she kissed him longingly, knowing it might be the last time she would see him. Permission or not, Momo knew she needed to do some soul-searching - maybe even find Tobiume again. But either way, she was going to need time away from this place; in order to absorb everything. It had been too much melodrama. She needed to go back to work; go back to the military life that put structure and routine in place. Something that would help her wash away this episode of her life.

Morgan hugged her tightly. "I'm gonna miss yoos, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am."

"I know," she whispered back. She was truly, truly sad to leave. "I will cherish you, Theodore Augustus Morgan the Fourth."

Tears came to Morgan's eyes now, for the first time since he could remember. "I's thankful o' that," he admitted. "I's 'ope yoos cumma vizzit iffa yoos can."

"I will," she promised. "It might be awhile, though."

"I's undastannd."

Resting her forehead against his, Hinamori stayed there; soaking in his comfort. It was so enveloping that it washed away a darkness she didn't want to leave behind.

-:-

Kiyone had enough of this mushy crap. "Neesan, I'm going outside," she whispered to Isane, and left out the front door. What an anticlimactic trip - find Momo at some human lover's house, and then take three seconds to kill the _actual_ rotten bastard. The most excitement she had on this journey was puking over a fence. She should have just stayed in the library and let Yadomaru-san pick out cheesy romance novels for her to read.

What Kiyone found outside, though, was not what she had expected. Instead of rural farmland whose only entertainment was providing growing grass to watch, she had found a completely decimated landscape. It appeared torn and ravaged by war. The earth smoldered, the vegetation was charred, and there was nothing left of what she remembered before she entered the house. It was a completely different environment from only a short while ago.

_"Ksa,"_ was all she could utter. Astonishment held her in check.

The others, Morgan and Momo included, had come out the front door shortly after Kiyone did, and they too were amazed with what they were now seeing. Their mouths were nearly a gaping shock of horror at the sudden desolation. Black smoke burned off the horizon; the sky was gray and dark with clouds of smog and there was no sign of sun.

And then a body came hurdling down from the heaven at a speed so fast it was nothing but a blur of black, landing in the dirt with enough force that it _bounced_ and skidded until it bowled over Kiyone.

"Ohh my _goddess_," Morgan swore, his face pale and sheen with sweat.

The figure stood up. She was clearly a shinigami of some kind, with what appeared to be a standard shihakusho and kisode. An orange cloth headband tied her hair back out of her eyes, and she brushed herself off.

It was Rukia who spoke first. "Impossible," Rukia gasped in shock, seeing the small knife the woman was holding. "It _can't_ be." She knew that knife - that small red pocket knife.

"Harumia," Morgan confirmed, his jaw hanging wide.

"Haru-Isuzu Mia," Rukia recalled, remembering from when Rantao Fukutaicho had told her about the history of Toyuki's zanpakutou. "Captain of the 7th division - _four thousand years ago! _But-"

"But that bastard gipped me of my haori!" the woman shouted out Rukia rudely, and then in a flash of shunpo, snapped back into the heavens.

That was when Rukia, Kuukaku, Isane, Kiyone, Momo, and Morgan looked upwards, just to see the monstrous form directly overhead.

"I think we have a problem," Isane understated.

_"MOVE!"_ Kuukaku shouted, grabbing Morgan and Momo (who had been holding hands) and blasting out on flash steps so hard they left skid marks in Morgan's front lawn. Moments later, there wasn't any such thing as Morgan's front lawn. The team of six, who all managed to move in the nick of time, were looking at a crater where his house was.

"What inna blazes izzdat thing?"

"I have no idea!" Kuukaku shouted. She could barely see it herself, it was so big and dark. _"RUN!"_ she ordered. _"Bakudo #92: Radial Blockade!"_

A series of thick glass-like panels formed, clacking into place around them in a half-dome like structure.

"Wow," Kiyone stammered. "A level 92 bakudo without an incantation?"

"I'm the captain of the kido unit," Kuukaku grimaced angrily, bristling at the implied insult. _"NOW MOVE IT, YOU DUMBASS!"_

Kiyone complied, as did the rest. Momo was holding onto Morgan to keep him in flash step. While escaping, a massive meteor-sized fireball struck against the shielding; it smoldered but held.

Isane was on the phone before the others could even think of finding their cellphones. "12th? Come in!"

"This is Akon," crackled the other end of the line.

"I need a limit lift for all shinigami in upstate New York! Start with Kuchiki Taicho, Shiba Taicho, and Kotetsu Fukuataicho!"

"Which of the -"

"ALL OF THEM!" Isane hollered.

"Roger."

"LOOK OUT, NEESAN!"

Itegumo was drawn and in a twist, Isane swatted at a glowing-orange rock of magma with the flat of her blade, deflecting it. "Can someone tell me what's going on?"

"Even if we knew, there's no time to tell you!" Kiyone shouted, dashing away as a series of enormous fireballs came crashing down. She weaved in and out, pushing Momo and her boytoy out of the way of an incoming spray.

The black blur that they had seen earlier came hurdling back down, but this time, Isane was prepared. _"Bakudo #55: Star Canopy!"_ The light-blue ectoplasm burst forth just in time to catch the shinigami they had seen earlier - except she was in two pieces. The entire upper half of her body had been ripped off of the bottom, and suffice it to say, the resulting sight is the kind of stuff that scars people for life.

Morgan's heart was shattered. "Ohs noes - Harumia! Yoos can'ts bees! Yoos - ohs my gods, ohs my's gods - "

"Oh Kami in Heaven, _again_?" she answered, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her body was gushing blood faster than a breach in the Hoover Dam. "Servant the Humble, is that you?"

Morgan's eyes - like everyone else's - lit up in shock. "Ms. Harumia? Are yoos okay? Hows doos yoos know -"

The shinigami with the orange headband grumbled. "I swear to Kami, what _is_ it with you? You've always been impossible to understand. The last time I saw you, you had the most god-awful lisp, it was impossible to understand a single word you said."

Rukia, Momo, Isane, Kiyone, and Kuukaku watched in astonishment as the woman's body began to knit itself back together. "I'm fine. Now, what about Servant the Wise?"

"Who?" Kuukaku asked.

"Dead," Morgan answered.

"Like hell I am," Q answered with a sneer from out of nowhere. He paused to crick of his neck. "I just didn't want to spoil the surprise."

-:-

Renji, Byakuya, Ichihime, Hisagi, Komamura, Nanao, and the Soutaicho steeled themselves as an outside force began to punch against their elevator-shaped prison in the void. The glass windows were on the opposite side, so no one had any insight as to who or what the intruder was.

The punching became stronger and stronger, knocking in the doors. The space inside the elevator was too small for them to draw swords, but those that could had kido at their fingertips.

The last punch finally broke through, and a pair of pale hands reached inside. With great strain, the doors were pried open, and the team of shinigami was prepared to blow their intruder's head off.

"What are you guys doing _here?"_ Neliel asked. This had to be the oddest thing she had ever seen in her many years of traveling via garganta.

Yamamoto didn't even entertain the question. _"You betrayed us!"_ he roared.

"Ah, shut it, old man," Neliel shrugged. Many years of being #2 in a free Hueco Mundo had premitted her to develop her own sense of mischievous disrespect. Or perhaps it was just a side effect of her split personality; no one would ever really know. "I'm on my way to Soul Society now. Her majesty, The King of Hueco Mundo, is going to chew those sewer-rats up and shit them out for breakfast."

_"Take us there!"_ Yamamoto roared.

"Sorry, Geezer," Neliel smiled. "The King's problems with her subjects are not the shinigami's business. But don't worry, Tia-sama is just as pissed as you are." Then she realized who else was there in the elevator. "Oh - hi, Renji! What's up?"

Ichihime looked at the green-haired, astonishingly beautiful arrancar. She had far bigger boobs than Ichihime would have ever tolerated. (If Ichihime had ever grown that big, she would have sawed them off. She had no idea how Matsumoto-san or Shiba-san coped.) Ichihime had very little exposure to arrancar - she had been part of a hunting party that had killed off what was supposedly the last enclave about ten years ago. The only other arrancar she knew of was Nel - who _everyone_ knew - and she was intrigued by the loose resemblance. Either way, Renji was not exactly the kind of guy who had women picking him out of a crowd. Especially not _hollow_ women. "You know this chick?"

"Yeah," Renji chuckled. He hoped he was detecting a faint trace of jealousy in Ichihime's voice. Turning back to Neliel: "Maybe you could get us out of here?"

"Sure," Nel shrugged. "Where to?"

"Soul Society," Komamura asked.

"Sorry, no can do," Neliel shrugged. "King's orders. Shark wants to make sure no one steals her dinner."

"UNACCEPTABLE!" roared Yamamoto.

"Well, I could leave you here, Grampa, if you really want," Neliel snarked.

"Hold on," Nanao sighed. She could radio the 12th and find out what's going on. "Hello? Rantao-san?"

"She's not here right now," came a pleasant female voice from the other end of the line. Nanao vaguely, vaguely recalled it - it was as if she had heard it before in her childhood years, and she just couldn't place it. "Can I help you?"

"We need to get home," Nanao muttered. "Can you - "

"Sorry, but you're not going home," sneered a different voice on the line. It was definitely a woman's, but it was aggressive and bitchy. "King's orders."

"What?" Nanao asked. "Since when do shinigami take orders from Hallibel-sama?"

"No," came the sweet voice that Nanao seemingly recognized. "The _other_ King's orders."

Nanao's eyes opened wide. Holy shit. The people on the other end of the line were -

"The Royal Guard," came the sneer. "That's right, bitch. Now - "

"Hey, be nice," came the sweet voice.

"Shut up, Cat Lady!"

There was some muttered bickering on the phone that Nanao didn't bother paying attention to as the coordinates were texted into her phone. She flashed them to Neliel, without explaining what else was going on. "Take us here!" she asked sternly.

"Geez, no need to get so pushy," Neliel teased whimsically. With a _swick_ of her hand, she tore open a garganta in the fabric of space-time. "Enjoy the cornfields of rural upstate New York!"

And then Neliel heaved the entire metal container - complete with seven shinigami inside - through the wormhole.

-:-

Q looked up. "Aw, _shit._"

The sky tore open, and suddenly, in a comically looney-tune-like fashion, Q was crushed by a freight elevator that quite literally fell out of nowhere.

"HA HA!" Haru laughed. "That is cosmic karma at its best!"

The doors to the elevator-to-nowhere (which oddly reminded Morgan of that strange movie, _Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure_) opened, and an irrascible Arcane Achangel with a long white beard disembarked. He was flanked by several more archangels, of which Morgan only immediately recognized Anubis. Morgan wasn't quite shitting in his pants - he was the kind of guy who possessed steel bowels trimmed with silicon carbide. Still, he had never seen so many archangels before, and it made him a touch more nervous than he would have liked.

"Good timing," Kiyone smirked.

"Hi hubby," Kuukaku said hurriedly, "love to take time for a quickie, but we got a problem. Grab these two - " she gestured, pointing to Morgan and Haru, "and get far away from here. Then find out what in the name of fuck is going on!"

Rukia was uneasy with this. "Nee-sama -"

"I am in charge of this rescue operation - NOW I ORDER YOU TO GO!"

Rukia was about to protest, but Byakuya's hand on her shoulder stopped her. With one last look at her sister-in-law, Rukia flashed off with the most of the team. Only Yamamoto and Kuukaku remained. Ukitake Taicho's words rung in her ears like they did so many times before: some fights are to defend our lives, others are to defend our pride. In this case, it was hard for Rukia to feel like it was the latter - but she understood. Kuukaku had made Hinamori a promise - not necessarily one that was spelled out, but that had to be taken to the ultimatum.

Nee-sama, Rukia prayed. Rukia had no idea what their adversary was - the vision in the sky was just a chaotic cloak of burning gray - but it was clearly something significant, for it had completely decimated several square miles already. Nee-sama hadn't been in the fight against Aizen. This was her first real fight ever since she had been reinstated. And to be honest with herself, Rukia was frightened. Nee-sama was a pure-blooded Shiba, and by mere blood she possessed more reiatsu than 99.99% of shinigami; she was strong with kido and surprisingly skilled with a sword for someone with her significant handicap. But she had never been battle-tested on this scale.

_Nee-sama,_ Rukia prayed, her own maternal instinct overriding her soldier's soul. _Please -_ don't let Hisako lose her mother tonight.

-:-

Kuukaku breathed deeply as she pulled Firefly off her back. It was radiating and buzzing with an intense alacrity; a readyness; an eagerness. _What do I live for?_ Kuukaku asked herself. _I live - to live, and to let others live. I am strong, I am fierce, I am cunning, I am clever,_ she asserted; reinforcing her already brimming confidence as the fiery haze of reiatsu began to build around her. _I am fire_ - simultaneously warm and scathing; that which is the most primeval support of life but can also be the harbinger of death. _I am contradiction; I am complexity; I am the chaos and confusion that comprises the human spirit._ I am a soul, and I am proud to be who I am, the way I am.

"I will wait here," Yamamoto said with finality. Only he and Shihoin Yoruichi truly knew what the 5th division captain was capable of. And so he waited.

"Alright," she said with a wicked, serpine smile. Time to remind the world that Shiba Kuukaku was one of the old-guard captains. She brought the back of her hand to her chest, holding her zanpakutou downwards between her breasts. _"Shine, Firefly. Bankai - **Kaleidoscope Comet.**"_

-:-

"Sweet Harumia," Morgan swore as the blast of reishi flew past him in a sonic wave that nearly knocked him over.

"Will you get off it?" Mia grumbled. "It's Haru_-Isuzu_. I know you love me, but I'm married."

This earned Morgan (and Haru) a glare from Momo. Morgan cowered back a bit and waved his hands in protest. "N-n-no. Uh, I's mean, nots likes _dat_. I's juss bein' respeckful, Momo-san."

"Okay, folks, so I'm glad you're having your wonderful reunion here - nice to see you, Hinamori, hope you're recovering nicely, by the way - but can someone please explain why we're standing around?" Ichihime interrupted. "'Cause seriously, if there was supposed to be a party, I really would have brought the booze."

"And you must be a Banzo," Haru smirked, hands on hips.

"Banzo_-no-kimi_," Renji hinted, trying to score some brownie points. It was a lost cause, but he might as well.

"And who might _you_ be?" Ichihime retorted, folding her arms across her chest. This was turning out to be the strangest mission she had ever been on.

"Haru-Isuzu Mia, and I see you're wearing my haori," Mia spat back.

Morgan realized he was in company of The One God Over All's most powerful group of messengers, and that for some stupid reason he wasn't showing them the respect he should have. He instantly prostrated himself in the dirt. "Heavenly Host, if I's mays be's so's allowed ta ecksplain, I's -"

"Oh, get up!" Mia barked at him. Turning her attention back to the group at large, she continued with a huff. "Servant the Humble over here is acting like he's never seen a shinigami before. Ignore him."

"Who?" Nanao asked, trying to follow what the heaven was going on.

"Servant the Humble," Mia repeated, pointing at Morgan. "Servant the Wise is over there, underneath that big metal spaceship you came out of."

"It wasn't a spaceship," Renji muttered. "It was a -"

"Not now, Taicho," Hisagi elbowed him. Despite their rank, Hisagi was actually Renji's senpai; so he could get away with shit. He took advantage of it now.

"Where's Servant the Just?" Mia asked.

"Dead," Morgan answered. "Killed by da shinigami, dat's alls I's know."

"I preferred you with the intractable lisp and blinding light pouring out of your face," Mia tsked. "I can't understand you for crap."

"CAN SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN WHO THIS PUNK IS?" Kiyone shouted, pointing at Morgan. This was getting ridiculous.

Mia rolled her eyes in disgust. She hated telling the story. "Him and his two buddies said that they wanted to see the afterlife, and I said no. They pestered me like crazy, so I brought them to Soul Society once," Mia shrugged. "Pious Mr. Humility over here was the only one who didn't have a flipout session. I decided that they were such a pain in the ass that - "

_"That you cursed us for all eternity!"_ Q screamed from the opposite side of the field. Naturally acting quickly, Morgan tried to shoot him again, but he was out of bullets.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Kiyone asked. "You're like a freaking cockaroach."

"Score one for the big dumb blonde," Mia tsked again.

_"Hey!"_

-:-

Kuukaku was soaring through the air, her entire body ablaze in a decadent spiral of rainbow flame. Moving at nearly ten thousand kilometers an hour, the air friction alone left a steam-trailed wake of multichromatic afterburn behind her. She darted up towards the monstrosity, and as she approached, she could comprehend its form more clearly.

It was the most vile thing she had ever seen.

The monster's surface was oozing with the melting flesh of liquified babies, screaming infants wailing as their skin sagged into the murky goo. It sputtered steam and human feces in streams, and the collective voices of anguished children made Kuukaku's spine shiver in horror. It's size was enormous - as big as two football fields - and it was suspending itself in air through some kind of reishi conversion process.

It wasn't even humanoid. Kuukaku could see it open its underbelly and spit out an asteroid of burning brimstone. Fleshy appendages then emerged that looked like they were made of shredded human genitalia. They swiped at the shinigami firefly, and Kuukaku burst through them like a fiery scalpel. Blazing forward, she dove fearlessly into its surface; carving a hole straight up through its top. Firing back down, she traced a path in and out of the ball of writhing flesh, cutting it through like a sewing needle through tissue paper. In seconds, she had cut hundreds of holes through it; effectively eviscerating any vitals it may have theoretically had. As its rape-like appendages swatted at her, they passed through her as her torched figure singed them off. The resulting trail of rainbow fire lit up the dusky sky like a fireworks display as the ghastly glob began to topple downwards.

Kuukaku wasn't letting this thing get away.

Ichigo may have inherited her family's impressive speed, but he had channeled it into fine motor skill and reishi channeling - incredible shunpo, lightning-fast swordwork, and Getsuga Tenshous like his father. Kuukaku had never been like her brother Isshashine. She was all about explosiveness. What she lacked in fine control, she made up for in raw power: her reishi was flaring out now as she dive-bombed like a peregrine falcon down towards her prey. She caught up with it, burrowing into its center as it fell earthwards - and then out came the coup de grace.

_"Kaleidoscope Combustion." _

***BOOOOOOOM***

-:-

Morgan seen an Glacial Archangel's abilities today, but he never would have imagined he would see a Seraph's power. The sky was suddenly an explosion of color; a fiery trail burning brighter than midday in the desert. (And Morgan had spent some time in the desert - forty years too many. So he knew what that was like.)

"Wow," Momo said, her eyes filled with wonder. It was awesome and beautiful and frightening and inspiring. The fireworks dazzled and sparkled yet radiated a commanding insistence of authority - here there be dragons, it nearly seemed. It filled her with a glimpse of life-changing awe; the kind of spiritual inspiration that one experiences from something far too grand for one's mind to conceive without ever living through it firsthand. This is the awesome might of us shinigami, she thought to herself, and then her attention turned to the man in the classy suit approaching from afar.

_Q._

"Pretty cool," Mia commented at the colorful display, semi-interested. "Anyway, see that annoying guy over there? He's Servant the Wise. He turned his back on everything he believed in once he saw Soul Society. He's spent the past thousand or so reincarnations using his divine gift of intelligence to try and find a way to kill me. Just to prove a point. 'Cause he's _such_ a pain in the ass, you have _no_ idea."

"Reincarnations?" Renji asked, eyes wide.

By now, Q was approaching the crowd with a crazed look in his eyes. "YOU SEE, MORGAN? SHE'S NO _GOD!_ SHE'S JUST A _SHINIGAMI!"_

Byakuya now had the front line. He withdrew his sword, just to make his intentions clear.

Q didn't seem to care. He lunged forward, his eyes filled with a berserk, psychotic rage. His katana was in both of his hands, raised high over his head. **_"THERE IS NO GOD AND THERE IS NO SIN!"_**

Byakuya shook his head. An amateur of disdainful proportions. Q was easily cleaved in two, then in four; just for the sake of humiliation. The body fell to the dirt in an anticlimactic thud.

"Did that already," Rukia sighed as she approached her brother's side. "Didn't seem to work."

"Wait - look!" Nanao shouted, pointing at the corpse. Sure enough, it was flickering in and out; and then with a sizzle, it snapped out of view with an electric crack.

"I hate cockaroaches," Mia muttered.

Rukia turned back to Mia in exasperation. "But I thought you were - "

"Dead?" Mia interrupted. "Yep. Was. Got killed by that thing up there last time," she pointed. "Of course, Servant the Wise got his hands on my zanpakutou somehow, and now he has one, too. So he resurrected me - without my haori, piss on that brat what an _asshole_ Wise is - just so that he could kill me."

_"Genesis!"_ Nanao sputtered. Shit. This was bad. "So he's practically immortal!"

Ichihime rolled her eyes, annoyed. She had security clearance for everything but still knew nothing about nobody. "You know way too much shit about shit, Glasses-Senpai."

"Except that he's a fleshbag," Mia shrugged. "We can take care of him easily enough - "

"Buts my's bullets was bouncin' rights offa 'im!" Morgan protested. Then, realizing he was speaking out of turn, he demurely added, "Uh, sorry ferr innttaruptin', Ms. Hahroo-Eesoozu."

Mia cringed. "Ugh, go back to Haru Mia. That didn't kill my ears."

"Buts whats s'bout -"

"You're a great guy, Monsieur Humble, but you've got about 1.3 amplicores - enough to see spirits. Friar Wise has clearly done something to amp up to a reishi level you can't compete with."

Renji understood it immediately. It was like the guys who tried to think that they could take down Kenpachi Zaraki because he let them have a free hit; only to watch it bounce right off. "But he's still far weaker than us captains," he elaborated. "None of us will have any trouble carving him up."

"Why don't you just remove the curse or hex or whatever it is you put on them?" Ichihime asked, wondering why no one had asked the obvious question.

"Oh, I suppose you think it's so easy to undo Creation!" Mia shouted back.

"I believe we have more pressing problems," Komamura interrupted. "What is that thing that Shiba Taicho is fighting?"

"Yeah, now _that's_ a problem," Mia admitted with a sigh.

"What is it?" Hisagi answered.

Nanao and Mia answered at the same time. _"Kathura."_

-:-

Kuukaku landed, drained. Her bankai took a lot of energy, and she was admittedly out of practice. She hadn't even needed to demonstrate her bankai to be reinstated as captain ten years ago; it had been over a century since she had last used it. Elephant-dung-sized mounds of bloody pus and flesh writhed all around her, just waiting to die.

She felt good as she stood up slowly and stretched. Ahh, it was good to be badass.

Trotting contentedly, she caught up with Yamamoto, enjoying a hefty bit of swagger in her gait. "What next?" she asked, not sparing any triumphant sass.

"Hmph," grumped the Soutaicho. Kuukaku knew it was the closest she would get to 'nice job.'

"Shall we join the others, Soutaicho-dono?"

"Wait," he ordered.

Kuukaku suddenly had a bad feeling. When she turned around, it was more confirmation then she wanted - but it was only a glimpse.

_*WHAM*_

Far faster than even the Soutaicho could have seen it coming, the glop of tumescent flesh had reformed and struck Kuukaku with a force that could be (and was) felt in a parallel dimension. With a violent crack, Kuukaku flew into telephone pole after telephone poll, cracking through each one so hard that they flipped upside down as her momentum carried her straight through a dozen or more. With a _squlorch_, Kuukaku bounced off a sidewalk and skidded until she crashed into someone.

-:-

"Who the hell is Kathu- _OW!_" Kiyone yelled as Kuukaku crashed into her head from behind. The 8th-division lieutenant rubbed the back of her head as she stepped out of the way of Shiba Kuukaku, whose trajectory had finally been halted by the younger Kotetsu sister.

"See what I mean?" Mia said. "And here you thought I was slacking off, right?"

Kuukaku groaned as she stood up. Her body felt like someone had put her through an olive press. "Uggh," she strained, applying healing kido anywhere she felt a broken bone - which was nearly everywhere. "That smarts."

"Told you," Mia added unnecessarily.

Suddenly, Morgan's chest compressed. He could barely breathe. There was a rippling, quaking strain in the air, and his body began to feel like it was disintegrating.

Momo was the first to notice - because she was feeling the same thing. "Morgan!"

Renji looked to the fiery vision from where Kuukaku had bounced from. The Soutaicho was in shikai.

"He's just a human," Nanao realized. It had been quite some time since she had the same experience, but she remembered it. Not fondly. "The reiatsu is too much for him. And Hinamori is still recovering," she added, trying to be polite. Even if Momo was at full charge, there was no way she could withstand the Soutaicho's released reiatsu.

"I got it," Isane volunteered, and pulled Morgan over her shoulder. His whole body was paralyzed stiff. Momo was almost equally paralyzed, and so she picked her up under her other arm. "I'll get out of range." She flickered off.

"Whoa, Glasses-senpai," Ichihime teased. "Maybe you should quit zanjutsu practice with Ceiling-Bonker and learn shunpo from her instead. She's pretty fast. And strong, too - carrying two people at once? That's impressive."

Nanao glared at Ichihime, but the effect was lost on her. Ichihime's skin was far too thick, and Nanao liked Ichihime too much to put any real venom in it. Besides, Nanao was wondering about Isane herself. Nanao had been a vice captain when she had been paralyzed by the Soutaicho's reiatsu - although, at that time, she had been a comparatively weak captain. Nanao and Isane had been close friends ever since Nanao had come to Soul Society, and was surprised. Isane was the only other one in the group who wasn't captain-class.

"So what do we do now?" Hisagi asked, looking at Kuukaku. She was pretty scraped up, but seemed okay enough to keep at it.

"I have to say, Shiba-san," Mia blurted out, guessing as to how to address Kuukaku by her signatory Shiba headband, "that you succeeded in getting it angry."

"Thanks a lot, you smart-ass fuck," Kuukaku shot back.

Byakuya would not stand for having his wife's honor offended. "Do you know whom you address?" he asked Haru pointedly.

"Nah, I didn't mean it like that," Mia dismissed. "Most things wouldn't put a dent in Kathura. But from here, I can see that it's been badly damaged enough to keep it grounded. Last time I fought Kathura under Yang Soutaicho, it took eight captains just to do that. Four of us died in the process."

"What chance do we have?" Komamura asked.

"Don't know," Haru shrugged disappointedly. "Geezer over there has got something going, we might as well see what happens."

-:-

Morgan was relieved that he could breathe. "Thankya, Ms."

"You're welcome," Isane answered in English. It was horrifically uninterpretable, laced with a thick Aizerbaijanni accent that she normally didn't possess when she spoke Japanese.

Sisters, Morgan guessed. He looked over the horizon and saw the monstrous gloppy form of their adversary. They were too far away to make out the details, but Morgan could see the Arcane Angel's blazing sword. "Praise da Lord o'er All," he mumbled in awe. "By Gabriel, da Sword o' Turnin' Fire."

"Huh?" Momo asked.

"Da Sword o' Turnin' Fire," Morgan repeated. "Whats God gave Gabriel ta guahd da enntrentz ta Parradice."

"I see you still believe that crap," came Q's voice from behind them.

Isane turned around with Itegumo drawn. Momo withdrew her katana as well, spitting disgust through her teeth. "Aren't you dead?"

"Very close to it; in several parallel dimensions, anyway," he shrugged. "Fortunate for me, I can exchange any number of myself within in any number of parallel dimensions at will. Which, I might add, makes it far easier to regenerate when I don't have to worry about you chopping my head off while the rest of me is still restitching itself."

Isane didn't understand how that was possible, but decided not to ask. _"Bakudo #4: Crawling Rope,"_ she cast instead. Cables of thick sailor rope shot forth from her fingertips, tying up the attacker promptly.

Momo sauntered over. "Perfect," she said, a dark grin appearing on her face. "If I have to, I'll enjoy killing you an infinite number of times."

Q struggled against his restraints, but it was impossible. Considering that he was among the smartest men in the universe - mastering seventy-three languages, graduating from John Hopkins medical school with a MD/PHD, the whole bit - he was certainly going about his revenge in a really stupid way. All tied up, he couldn't properly wield his hybrid-Astryx zanpakutou fast enough. His eyes widened as he realized that, yet again, this was going to _hurt._

With a halo of sadistic glee, Momo seized his face in the palm of her hand. Her crotch was twitching so hard she thought she would come. _"Hado #66: Soren Sokatsui."_

-:-

Renji's gut began to crawl as the immense reiatsu coming from the battlefield quaked in an unusual way. "What is going on over there?"

"I hope the Soutaicho isn't seriously considering bankai," Nanao mused out loud. "He'll destroy everything in a twenty-mile radius. That's too big a casualty zone."

Komamura, though, was worried. "I am uneasy."

Byakuya mirrored the giant captain's concern. "It does not seem that the Soutaicho is going to use bankai."

"Then what do you think it is?" Hisagi asked.

With a flaming, searing skid that cut a hole in the earth, the answer came to rest at Ichihime's feet. "Ancestors pray to Kami-sama," Ichihime swore, her sass failing at the undeniable shock of what she saw.

It was the Soutaicho's corpse, head completely intact but with everything below the neck charred to the bone.

Haru-Isuzu exhaled with a deep sadness. "And now you understand why we're all fucked."

* * *

_Sorry this chapter took awhile, folks. I've been really busy, and I had to keep editing it until I was marginally happy with it. I'm still not thrilled, but it will have to do. **Reviews, please!** Cheers! -njx_


	51. Explodium

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Warning:** This chapter contains some tame-to-moderate depictions of gore, depending on your definition of tame and moderate. I tried to balance it so that it would be creepy/gross yet not actually nauseating. In any case, consider yourself warned._

_**Author's note: **__If you haven't read "Save This For Kuchiki", then there will be spoilers here. _

_**Translator's note:** The informal slang honorific "-chama" is a cross between "-chan" and "-sama", and is occasionally used when neither of those honorifics would be appropriate. For example, the mayor's daughter might be referred to by this honorific, as a sign of respect for her elevated social status (which is not quite at the level where -sama would be appropriate). It is used exclusively to identify female children and would never be used with an adult or a boy (where -kun could be used instead of -chan).  
_

* * *

_"You have been examined by Central 46, the Council for Nobility, and the Spirit King; and they have found that you meet all the requirements of a captain-commander's position. Do you feel this assessment is fair and just?"_

_"Hai," he shouted, as per the ceremonious custom._

_"Do you swear to bring honor to the Gotei 13, protect all souls, plusses, shinigami, handoshi, and even hollows; from each other and from themselves?"_

_"Hai," he shouted again._

_"Do you swear to preserve the balance of all things for all eternity, despite the ethical and moral dilemnas that this responsibility presents?"_

_"Hai!"_

_"And do you promise to lead the shinigami with honor, dignity, and righteousness?"_

_"Hai, I swear by the honor of my name, the honor of my sword, and the honor of my legacy; I shall!" he confirmed._

_"Before we bear witness to this shinigami's sacred oath, does anyone challenge his resolve?"_

_All was silent._

_"Then we have born witness to this man's resolve. Arise, 1st Division Captain Commander, Ukitake Jushiro, and bind your beard so that all shall know your strength!"_

_~The coronation of Ukitake Jushiro as Soutaicho of the Gotei 13; after the death of Captain-Commander Yamamato Genyruusai Shigekuni at Kathura Battle_

* * *

_"Bankai is nothing more than a side effect of self-enlightenment."_  
_~Komamura Saijin Sensei, former Kenpachi and captain of the 7th & 11th divisions and now dean of Shinou Academy; 200+ years from now_

_"Bankai is what you can achieve only when you are who you wish to be."_  
_~Paraphrasing of Shiba Kuukaku, 5th division captain; 200+ years from now_

_"Bankai is unattainable for those who live in the past."  
~Paraphrasing of Kuchiki Rukia, 3rd division captain; 200+ years from now_

_"How did I achieve bankai so early? With honesty, I can say this: sheer pigheadedness. I wanted to impress Jushiro so much that I would have done just about anything. I guess that kind of resolve made it easy."_  
_~Kotetsu-Ukitake Kiyone, 13th division captain, recounting how she very unexpectedly achieved bankai at a mere 80 years old; 200+ years from now_

_"...Bankai is far from easy; sure - but there are some things in life that are far more difficult, and once you surpass them, even bankai is trivial."_  
_~Kenpachi Hisagi Shuuhei, 11th division captain, recalling to himself the emotional pain of having to give away the infant they briefly fostered in secrecy (to become his niece and student, Kuchiki/Kurosaki Hikaru); 200+ years from now_

_"Bankai? I think I learned bankai when I stopped trying. You can't try. Once you say, 'I'll try,' it means you don't have the self-confidence it takes to get it. When you can say with utmost certainty that 'I will' - no, not even. Rather, actually, 'I am learning bankai' - that's when you actually can."_  
_~Kotetsu-Yamada Isane, 4th division captain; remembering how she ever achieved bankai 200+ years from now._

_"It took me years and years and years to learn bankai. I had to fight my zanpakutou for weeks at a time; I nearly starved sometimes while I was meditating. It was an emotional and philosophical struggle that I suffered with for an inordinate amount of time. How do you respect life when your task is to be an instrument of murder? How could I resolve my profession of assassination, ruthlessness and a responsibility to show no mercy when - at heart - I'm nothing but a softie who really likes people? To this day, I'm still not sure. I think it was only because I realized that, even though I may be an assassin by profession, I am a person first; a person who prefers sunshine-laden picnics with friends. Who I am is not defined by my profession; I am more than the sum of my position. Some may tell you that bankai is all about unification of the soul, but I can't believe that. For me, it was all about compartmentalization - how do I have the tools to do what I need to do, but not have it affect who I am? I - well, never mind, now I'm just blabbering. Wanna get some takoyaki? I'm starved!"_  
_~Hana Tsubaki, 2nd division captain and leader of the Onmitsukido after the retirement of Shihoin Yoruichi; 200+ years from now_

_"Bankai is only for those with ironclad resolve. That is why it is unattainable to nearly everyone."_  
_~Kuchiki Byakuya, 6th division captain; 200+ years from now_

_"Bankai? Yare, yare. Can't we talk about our choice of sake instead?"_  
_~Kyouraku Shunsui, 8th division captain; 200+ years from now_

_"It's something you can only achieve when you realize how to do the right thing, despite all the wrong things you've done."_  
_~Abarai Renji, 9th division captain; recalling how he learned bankai in order to rescue his streets-of-Rukongai-childhood sister, Kuchiki Rukia, alongside Kurosaki Ichigo; 200+ years from now_

_"Don't ask me, I did what I always do - whip up some device to help me."_  
_~12th division captain Urahara Kisuke, on how he learned bankai; about 200+ years from now_

_"Bankai? ...Don't ask me these questions."_  
_~10th division captain, Hitsugaya Toshiro; not wanting to be bothered around 200+ years from now_

_"If I told you the truth, you wouldn't believe me anyway."_  
_~Major General of the Kido Corps Ise Nanao; recalling how she earned bankai by 'cheating'_

_"C'mon, could you ask any more of a personal question?"_  
_~7th division captain, Banzo Ichihime; when asked about how she achieved bankai about two centuries in the future _

* * *

_"Soutaicho-dono!"_ Komamura gasped.

Nanao's eyes were cold. "He's dead," she pronounced harshly. On the battlefield, emotions were for pussies. "We need a plan." And despite Nanao's aptitude for battle strategy, a plan wasn't quick in coming. She was now the highest-ranking member of their group, but something that could spit out the Soutaicho in less than ten minutes was not the kind of situation that presented any obviously viable options.

"How could you _possibly_ think that we could beat something like _that_?" Kiyone shouted; sent off-kilter.

_"Quiet,"_ Rukia ordered her. "Shosho-sama is right. We need to think quickly."

Byakuya redirected the conversation. "Haru-Isuzu Taicho," he asked heavily, never taking his eyes off of the globby being about five hundred yards away. "What was your strategy when you were combatting it alone?"

"Strategy?" she asked him sarcastically. "What strategy? I was busy trying to keep it distracted so it didn't roast you alive inside Humble's house!"

"This is getting us nowhere," Renji grimaced. "If that thing gets out of the cornfields and into a city, thousands of people are going to die."

"What the hell _is_ it?" Kiyone asked, scared out of her mind. Nothing could have killed the Soutaicho that quickly. Soutaichos don't die. They're supposed to just get old. "How the hell are we supposed to fight it if we don't even know what it is?"

"Kathura is an interdimensional parasite," Haru explained. "It feeds on just about anything; sucking the life force out of every dimension it enters. There's nothing really like it, but I suppose its closest relative are the cleaners you see in the Dangai."

"Are you _shitting_ me?" Ichihime flustered. "That thing is a _cleaner?_ What the fuck? You expect us to fight a _cleaner!_" She had heard that Aizen, in his height of power, had destroyed one once before. Even the strongest captains, though, never even dared of fighting a cleaner head-on. Not even Zaraki Kenpachi was crazy enough to pick that kind of a fight.

"Hate to break this to you, newbie, but that thing is a gazillion times worse than a cleaner," Haru spat back rudely.

"Bitch," Ichihime snarled back.

"Enough," Rukia ordered. "We need a plan."

"Can we contain it?" Byakuya asked. The blob gyrated and jiggled, and then suddenly belched out a hideous stench of sulphurous gas. It was clearly severly corrosive, as the remainder of vegetation disintegrated in it; old cars and strewn tractors rusted; and everything began to generally crumble and crack like oxidized rubber.

"We can try," Nanao suggested. "We'll need to coordinate our attacks, though."

"You're in charge, Glasses-senpai," Ichihime sighed. "Tell us what we need to do."

For once, Nanao really didn't want to be the one in charge. For a large portion of her life, she had always wanted to be a captain; but once she became a general, her ambition had plateued. Captain-Commander was not a title she coveted. "Alright, I have no idea if this will work, but it's the best I can think of."

-:-

Yoruichi grimaced. She had fought vasto lorde before, but she remembered how much it sucked. They were tough as nails. What sucked more, though, was when they brought reinforcements.

Internally, the Shihoin princess swore in seventy languages as a garganta opened behind her current opponent. The hollow laughed menacingly, taunting her with bellows emanating from his hollow mask; a skull of shredded bone placed on top of a scaly brown hide that covered his rippling muscles from head to toe. This particular vasto lorde had a devastating set of powers - he could use both telekinesis and pyrokinesis - and as fast as Yoruichi was, he didn't have to catch up to her to seize her in his thoughts and slam her into the stone floor over and over again. Battered and bruised, Yoruichi didn't know that she could stand to fight any more hollows on top of the one she was already dealing with. But when a familiar face stepped through the garganta, and Yoruichi froze with apprehension.

_Tia._

Yoruichi was about to call Hallibel a backstabbing bitch when the blond arrancar unzippered her shirt, revealing her toothy maw. With a grotesquely inhuman cracking, her jaw unhinged and expanded numerous times its normal size, and with a speed that rivaled Yoruichi's flash step, the Shark's Mouth chomped down on the vasto lorde's head and upper chest, ripping it off and leaving the torso with a huge ridge of bite marks. Another series of disturbingly violent mastications followed, and the class-S vasto lorde had been reduced to shark food.

Hallibel roared with an anger that could be felt for miles, her enormous razor-lined craw so large that Yoruichi could actually see Tia's second set of hollow jaws deep inside her throat. They were just as selachimorphal as her outer jaws, with multiple lines of teeth inside; and the double-echoed howl shook the inner shark teeth with a reverberation that would make any normal person quiver in abject terror.

Her flaring, angry eyes turned to stare Yoruchi down with a coldness that Yoruichi had rarely seen from the King of Hueco Mundo. "Yoruichi-no-kimi," she began. Yoruichi found it surprising that Tia had chose to use her personal name - what had generally been a sign of earnest friendship between them - yet appended with such a royally impersonal honorific. "Tell your allies that they dare not kill my vasto lorde - for those traitor scum must answer to me!" she growled.

The tension dropped out of Yoruichi's shoulders, and she sighed with a knowing smile. "As you wish, Hallibel-sama."

In a twang of mach-3 sonido, Tia vanished from Yoruichi's sight. With another sigh of relief, Yoruichi deposited her drawn zanpakutou, a smallish kodachi, back into its sheath at her belt. Swiftly, she flickered away on her own speed steps, determined to alert Ukitake, Kyouraku, Unohana, and Kisuke that the tide might turn now that the Shark was roaming in shallow waters.

-:-

"Alright, move out!" Nanao shouted, hoping that the familiar call would lift morale. Nanao was not good at sustaining morale. Especially when she herself was not so sure of herself. There were few in the Gotei 13 who could come close to rivalling Nanao's raw power, but the Soutaicho was one of them. On top of it, he had over two millenia more experience than she did; which counted for far more than raw power. The death of Yamamoto left Nanao shaken, even if she never would have shown it.

_"Bankai, Kaleidoscope Comet,"_ Kuukaku started.

_"Bankai, Kokujou Tengen Myou'ou!"_ Komamura joined, and the first onslaught began. Charging forward, the ironclad giant followed the smoking trail of his flaming vixen comrade. Kuukaku was the distraction - zipping around like a fire pixie, it was impossible for the giant fleshgoo to harm her. It was Nanao's initial surveillance tactic - how did the being perceive its surroundings? Did it have a single, focused conscience that could be distracted? Or was it multiniscient - capable of multiple simultaneous-but-separate perceptions? Nanao didn't have a chance for real reconnaisance, so this would have to suffice.

Besides, she had just seen Kuukaku's insanely destructive bankai, and the towering bankai of Komamura Saijin was the physically strongest front line she could gather at the moment.

"Kuchiki Taicho," Nanao gestured, obviously speaking to Byakuya. (Rukia was always just 'Rukia-san' to Nanao.) "Kenpachi-san will need your defense." The last thing Nanao wanted was for Komamura to take a blow like the one that Kuukaku had taken earlier just because his bankai was a big target.

"Understood. _Bankai. Senbonzakura Kageyoshi,_" he commanded, and followed after Komamura; using his wall of petals as a forcefield for Saijin's bankai.

"Abarai Taicho, Kiyone-san, get into position." Ugh, it still felt weird to call her that, Nanao thought. She knew that Kiyone was Papa's best friend's wife, but the familiarity was still weird.

_"Hai,"_ Kiyone said. If she was nervous or anxious, the 8th division vice captain didn't show it.

"Ah," Renji answered in the affirmative. He and Kiyone began to flank out the side paths.

"Should I go?" Rukia asked.

"Hold the back line. Don't go bankai unless you have to - it'll put the rest of us at just as much of a disadvantage."

Rukia understood. She nodded and followed off down the center path, prepared to hold down the edge of the battlefield. She had a bad feeling that it might come to that. "I hope this works, Nanao-neesan."

Nanao gave an anxious smile. So much for 'emotions on the battlefield are for pussies'. "Don't go calling me Neesan right now, it makes me feel like you're going to go out there and die."

Rukia snorted out a laugh. "Kuchikis don't die," she said smugly, but then added a wink. Nanao couldn't help but laugh at Rukia's obvious impression of her older brother. Nanao would have replied something equally witty, but Rukia had a job to do and didn't give Nanao the chance. She flickered over to where the fighting had started.

The only ones left at their rendevouz point were Nanao, Ichihime, and Shuuhei. Nanao could see Isane with Momo and her human companion several hundred meters behind them - not quite in safe distance, but far enough away that they wouldn't be in the way. She hoped. "Banzo Taicho," Nanao addressed her, silently proud to be able to refer to her former seated officer by that title. "Go check on the others and report back."

"Sure, sure," Ichihime teased her. "I know you just want some privacy to smooch your beau, I get it." Nanao's grumbling frown only made Ichihime laugh, and then she jogged over to the others; saving her strength by not using shunpo unnecessarily. Besides, the jog would get her blood pumping and help ready her if she needed to fight.

Shuuhei just laughed incredulously as Ichihime departed. "She's something else, isn't she."

Nanao nodded. She wasn't in the mood for light talk - she was far too nervous. "I'm worried she won't be able to do much this fight."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hisagi asked.

Nanao sighed. She shouldn't have voiced her internal vote-no-confidence. "She's an incredible shinigami, but she's never fought anything on this scale. And I don't know much about her bankai, but unless it turns her tanto into a nuclear bomb, it probably won't help us take down that thing."

"What about your bankai?" Hisagi said snarkily, raising an eyebrow at her.

Damnit, I walked into that one, Nanao cursed herself. She was not on her A-game today. "I don't know that it will help," she sighed, not wanting to admit it.

Hisagi chuckled. "I'm sure that's a load of bull."

Nanao sighed. "How would you know?" she retorted, pissy; knowing it was mean of her. She was supposed to have told him about her zanpakutou by now, and she still didn't want to; and she decided that his poking and prodding had pissed her off because she was in a bad mood to begin with. It wasn't fair of her, but she didn't care. Nanao was a vindictive bitch and she made Shuuhei live with it sometimes.

For his part, Shuuhei didn't seem to let it bother him. Nan-chan was Nan-chan; he liked all of her, good and bad together. He rolled with it and kept his smile. "Heh. I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he shot back, waggling his eyebrows like the properly trained son of a pimp (which he actually was).

"Oh shut up," she sighed, rolling her eyes. Shuu and his stupid promises. Damn him. "Go," she said softly. "Come back, okay? ...Don't die."

Hisagi unsheathed his sword and propped it over his shoulder. "Don't worry," he replied with an all-too-telling smirk. "There's no way I'm dying until you fulfill your part of the bargain."

Nanao was getting anxious. She didn't want him to go, but from what she could see, the initial charge was not making much progress. "Go," she repeated in a whisper, actually tender for a change.

Hisagi kissed her on the forehead quickly. _"Hai,"_ he answered with his own deep-souled, penetrating whisper; and then he followed Kiyone's path towards Kathura's onslaught.

Great King of Hell, I hope we survive by some freak miracle, Nanao thought to herself. She knew that they wouldn't. Nonetheless, she started reciting the incantation for the strongest kido she could cast; a recipe for annihilation on the scale of nothing ever seen before.

-:-

Kuukaku zipped around the fleshy beast, leading its grotesque tendrils of raped flesh away from Komamura's bankai. From what Kuukaku could tell, the ghastly Ick could strike multiple targets at once, but it had some kind of limit; and at the very least, her distraction tactic was helping. How much, though, was hard to tell.

Kokujou Tengen Myou'ou smashed his sword down the center of the blob, cleaving the top half of it open as the massive sword embedded into the oozing pus of the screaming-baby-surface. Globules of liquified flesh, though, soon poured over the blade, trapping it inside. Byakuya's wall of sakura blades was the only thing that saved the Kenpachi's bankai from being struck in the face with an enormous zombie-like, surface-shredded phallus that emerged from the glob's other side. As it was, Byakuya strained to hold the massive penis-like appendage back.

Kuukaku came to her husband's aid by rocketing through the base of the creature's protuberance, blazing it off in a haze of rainbow fire. Turning around on a dime and using her own afterburner as a smoke screen, Kuukaku charged back through a second time to burn the fleshy club clear off the base of the body. It gave Komamura an opening, and his iron giant slammed a gauntletted fist straight into the open wound.

With a gloppy mess, Kokujo Tengen Myou'ou began ripping out the guts and organs inside the horrid squelching monster; each fistful coated thick with a putrid green-and-brown effluvia that had such a horrid smell that it even almost made Byakuya lose his composure. Finally seizing his trapped blade through the bored-out cavity, the armored samurai giant tore it free from the insides of the gloopy glob of melting infant faces.

Kuukaku dove into the gaping, bleeding, pus-oozing wound and began to do donuts inside the hole; widening it and giving Senbonzakura a channel to enter. The petals flooded the chasm of the monster's bleeding cervix-shaped wound, and with great force, Byakuya thrust them all outward at once; tearing the being through from inside out. Byakuya did not expect to kill it this way - it would have been no more an effective a slaughter tactic than Kuuaku's previous inside-out explosion - but he was correct in believing that it would do the being serious harm.

The human comet quickly spiralled around the now-exploded mounds of flesh, leaving a wake of burning air to wall in the pounds of flesh that were forced outward from Byakuya's explosion. Kuukaku was making rings of fire so fast that dust motes in the air burst into flame from sheer friction; creating a wall of searing air. The sudden rush of heat began to suck in cold air by convection, and within seconds, Kuukaku had created a twister out of thin air around the monster; the violent death-spiral of wind further tearing away at the fleshy insides like a crooked power drill taken to a rotting watermelon.

Kuukaku pulled out, and the Ick called Kathura began to congeal again; albeit more slowly this time. Before it could lash out any more tendrils of mutilated gonnorhea-infested genitalia, Komamura swung down his giant bankai sword again; this time striking with the flat of the blade. It struck the top of Kathura hard like a thunderclap; and the congealing blob temporarily flattened into an ovoid; pounded like overfermented sourdough.

_"NOW!"_ Rukia bellowed from afar.

_"Bankai, Hihiou Zabimaru!"_ Renji ordered, his sword extending out into its giant snake form.

Hisagi was also ready. _"Bankai,"_ he commanded his sword. _"Reap and Sow the Grave-Bone Harvest, Kazeshini."_

-:-

Kyoraku raised his eyebrows in amazement as the two vasto lorde he was fighting suddenly had hands bursting through their chests. He was about to ask what was happening when an enormous row of shark teeth snapped down around them; bigger than the tear of a garganta in the sky. A sickening grinding crunch could be heard amongst the hollow's screams as the jaws opened and closed in a violent jerking fashion; as though the mouth had no molars and could only rip and shred their bodies with multiple attacks from its sharply cruel incisors.

Stepping back, Kyoraku was forced to listen to the screaming and wailing until the vicious maw finally chomped down one last time with an audible gulp. In a split-second contraction, the jawline shrunk back to the face of the enormously big-breasted King of Hueco Mundo, former Espada Tia Hallibel.

"Thanks!" Shunsui smiled goofily.

"Tch," Hallibel snorted; her skeletal face crawling with contempt - although Shunsui wasn't sure if the contempt was aimed at him. "I never ask a man to do a woman's job."

Okay, so maybe the contempt was aimed at me, he chuckled amusingly as Hallibel echoed off somewhere else. Now where did Juu go?

-:-

_The gore; oh the gore!_

Momo revelled in it; his splattered brains on her cheek, neck, forehead; Q's blood in her hair, bits and chunks of bone and tissue on the sleeve of her shihakusho. It made Momo salivate; her crotch was wet with anticipation; the spiral gleam of insanity in her eyes made them wide with sadistic glee. Her sexual lust for vengeance was so intense that she almost wanted to rip out his spinal chord and fuck herself with it. She stuck a hand down her pants and laughed a demonic, diabolical laugh; sick with a passioned appreciation of murder.

_**Murder.**_ Oh, murder was _so_ fucking good, Momo's head swam in the bloody sea of ecstasy. _Murderous revenge, sweet, succulent murderous vengeance!_

"Momo-san? Momo-san?" Morgan asked her, clearly worried. "Uh, yoos okay?"

Distracted from her reverie of bloodfuckery, Momo's eyes dulled to their pained chocolate brown, and she switched tracks like someone with a split personality. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she said nonchalantly. She was then suddenly mortified when she realized that could see her publicly pleasuring herself, and yanked her hand out sheepishly.

Isane was staring at her wide-eyed. Momo was _not_ okay.

"S'okay," Morgan breathed out slowly. The angel of death was scaring him. He understood her desire and her pain, her need for retribution, and her overall mental scarring; but he needed to pull her back away from that as soon as possible. "Why's dontchoo cummaback o'er here and helpa me wit' my's ankle," he lied, feigning a sprain. Anything to keep her focused on something constructive. It wasn't the nicest of ruses, but Morgan knew from experience that honesty was not not always the best policy. Helping people was the best policy; and this would help far more than the truth.

"You're hurt?" Momo asked, pulling her attention back towards Morgan. It was as if her entire demeanor had turned on a dime; before, all she could care about was sticking her hand down the enormous cavity at the stump of Q's neck; now she was completely devoted to his well-being.

It creeped him out, but he held his form. "My's ankle's s'botherin' me," he lied. "I's think I's twisted it when, uh - ?"

"Kotetsu," Isane offered.

"- when Ms. Kotetsu heeer grabb'd us."

"Oh - here, let me fix it," Momo said, and then quickly came and applied a magical green glow to his foot.

Morgan was relieved that she had been snapped out of her darkest heart of shadows, but looking down at her, he was uncomfortable. She was covered in a mess that made it too hard to forget her sinister joy in her enemy's downfall. "Uh, I's offer yoos a hankie, buts yoos already gots mine," he smiled uneasily.

Momo smiled knowingly at him - he saw the faintest hint of embarrasment of her outburst - and removed his handkerchief and wiped her face clean. "Sorry."

He laughed, although he couldn't keep his uneasiness from escaping. "S'okay," he fibbed, although it was far more sincere than his previous bald-faced lie about his ankle.

"We've got trouble," Isane interrupted. "Look."

Slowly, bit by bit, Q's head and face began to regrow; a mound of bubbling flesh percolating out of the open wound and settling slowly into his natural features. It was a grotesque, inhuman sight; a nightmare that was reminiscent of the late 12th division's Captain Whats-his-name-no-one-can-remember regenerating his severed limbs.

Isane's bakudo bond had long been shed; Isane believing that Q was dead. She had seen him spontaneously reappear into life before, but seeing someone's head explode normally inclines you to believe in their death, and so she had conserved energy by letting the spell expire. Now, right before her, she debated whether or not she should decapitate him again.

_No,_ she said to herself. Hesitation and indecision. They are my biggest flaws. I need to stop doing that.

Charging forward, Itegumo exited his sheath and cleanly sliced off the mound of regenerating flesh. Without any particular passion, Isane repeatedly cleaved off the mound of burbling skin and muscle. Each time it began to resurface, she guillotined it again.

"Stand back!" Momo called.

Isane turned her head, and seeing that Momo appeared to be in her right mind, leaped back out of the way.

_"Walls of iron sand / a priestly pagoda / glowing ironclad fireflies. Standing upright / silent to the end. Bakudo #75: Quintet of 1-kan Iron Pillars!"_

The huge shafts tumbled down from an invisible portal to the reishi world and stomped down on the regenerating man, crushing his rib cage, spine, pelvic bones, collarbones, shoulder joints, and all of the internal organs inside. It was a horrible and gruesome way to die - if Q could even die at this point.

Morgan watched with a queasy stomach as the force of the iron columns pushed out a new head as though air was displaced out of a squeezed balloon. As soon as Q's head took shape, blood spurted violently out of its mouth.

"That should hold him," Momo said. Her chocolate brown eyes were defiant but firm and in control.

Q grumbled under the weights as he struggled to breathe. Somehow, his body had retained enough spiritual pressure to function. "I... fucking... hate... you... bitches...!"

"Now what?" Isane asked. "We clearly can't kill him."

Q screamed an angry wail of rage. "Eat... shit!"

Momo's gaze focused as the sword in Q's hand began to glow, and out of the earth, great scaly shafts emerged from the earth; and slowly they began to take shape.

Q couldn't get up, but he was able to use his hands to push back against the weights on his chest enough that he could properly breathe. I've been going about this all wrong, he thought. Why fight when I can create armies to do it for me? "Welcome to the jurassic age, fuckers! _DIE A BLOODY DEATH, YOU ASSWIPES!_"

Morgan couldn't believe his eyes. In front of him was an entire pack of twelve ravenous, snarling velociraptors. _Dinosaurs_ - actual, living, breathing, drooling, growling _dinosaurs._

"What the hell are those?" Momo asked, admittedly nervous. They had a feral intelligence in their eyes - not the slow, lumbering look of a pea-brained lizard; but the sharp focus of a skilled, ruthless predator. They were far more frightening than any hollow Momo had ever seen. Hollows have a hunger to them; but it is a tragic hunger, a contradiction; a scar of compulsion that drives them to feed to fill their own void. Theirs, though, was not a hunger of sadness. It was a hunger born of predatory Darwinism; to either eat or die trying. There was nothing but singleminded urge to kill; a distinct, primal passion born of survival and superiority.

"Something else we have to deal with," Isane grimaced.

With click-snap-crunch of its tooth-lined jaw, the alpha raptor gave some sort of command, and the raptors pounced.

-:-

From each of his hands, seven chains flew forth; each one headed with a ten-foot wide circular saw spinning fast enough to cleave titanium like it was no stronger than cheap cloth. Wielding them with equal expertise as he did his kusari-gama, Hisagi swung his bankai at the glob's side, burrowing the buzzsaws deep within its walls of gooey skin and oozing tissue.

With a synchronization that could only be expected of a captain and his lieutenant, Hihio Zabimaru came crashing down on Kathura's top, the jaw clamping and holding it down.

_"Bankai! Masticora's Parade!"_ Kiyone called from behind Hisagi, slamming the hilt of her unreleased zanpakutou into the floor. The earth split open, and out emerged five scorpion-tailed, bat-winged lions; each one as large as a diesel dump truck. Controlled in tandem by the persnickety-but-determined Kotetsu Kiyone, they seized the chains of Hisagi's bankai and began to pull; giving Shuuhei more leverage power as they helped him hold it down.

"Rukia! Ise's orders! Go bankai!" Kuukaku yelled, zipping by her in a flash of vivacious flames.

Alright, if you think that's wise, Nanao-neesan. Rukia's uniform bleached a stark white as she commanded Sode no Shirayuki: _"Saigo no mai - Nisshoku Shiro; Bankai!"_ The lunar eclipse began quickly, and the moon began to encase the heavens as it came closer and closer. The gravity increased tenfold, then twentyfold; until finally it was a collossal burden on everyone's shoulders. Most of the other captain-class shinigami - and Kiyone especially - were struggling to resist its effects.

But Komamura took advantage of it. With a enormous effort on his part to fight against the added gravity, Komamura lifted his giant bankai sword upwards into the heavens. When it finally reached the apex - using nearly all of Komamura's strength - he swung down with the blade's flat, using the added gravity to increase the force of his strike.

At the very last moment, Renji's bankai receded, and the enormous iron sword clubbed down on top of the pinned Kathura with pressure equal to three hundred thousand atmospheres - more than four times the amount needed to turn carbon into diamond. With a messy_ SQUPLORCH_ that could be heard for hundreds of miles, the blob of goop exploded into a mess of organs and chunks of infant flesh.

Rukia watched with great disappointment as the puddles of splattered pus began to congeal again.

"Nice whites, Chibi-chama," Haru said from almost behind her. Rukia's stony, irritated glare bore up at the bossy, egotistical woman. "Good, but not good enough."

"Call me that again and I cannot promise you your survival," Rukia shot across a Medusa's gaze at her. It was petty for Rukia to be arguing over the respect due to her, but Haru had an extremely grating personality that made you want to punch her.

"Che," Mia tsked. "I don't plan on surviving," she said seriously.

"Huh?" Rukia asked, forgetting her ire.

Mia sighed. "The first thing you learn when you can raise the dead is that you're better off not doing it," she confessed. She had learned this lesson the hard way. Her husband, Isuzu Kyon, had been the love of her life. She had been the love his life. His first one, anyway. It was a memory she was better off forgetting about.

"But - "

"Do me a favor, will you? Tell Moses that if there was ever a guy who deserved heaven, it was him."

"Moses? Who - wait!"

"Sorry, Chibi-chama," Mia called over her shoulder as she smugly smiled as she dashed towards the congealing gloop. "I've got a job to do!"

Rukia couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Wait - no!"

Already in shikai, Haru needed no further delay. _"Bankai - Genesis and the Big Bang: Supernova Terraforma."_

The last thing Rukia's eyes saw before the light seared her blind was the Haru-Isuzu Mia disintegrating into ash under the force of her own zanpakutou.

-:-

"Yuki-chan...?" Zari asked. "Whatsa matter? You okay?"

Toki returned her attention to the toddler, who had employed Toki to help her build a tower out of blocks. "Yes," she answered stoically. Only the closest sliver of truth tipped the scales in her black-and-white binary answer.

-:-

The first raptor to hit Isane knocked her over hard onto her right shoulder. Isane's incredible strength and size were the only thing that held the snapping jaws from tearing her open by the gullet. She was crossbarring Itegumo against the raptor's neck, but it's clawed forearms and heavy, scaly hide were incredibly resistant. She had been able to slice through it, but she was at a bad angle; the creature's hot breath roared over her head and neck. It thrashed at her violently, stomping and tearing at her midsection with its hind claws; gashing open her stomach. It would have ripped out her intestines, but Isane's captain-class medical kido - which she could administer through verbal command and amazing calm under pressure - was enough to keep the wound sealing fast enough to prevent it from being a lethally violent attack.

At the very least, being toppled with one on top of her, Isane only had to deal with one of the beasts; the others had treated her as taken and left her to hunt Momo. Momo was far enough behind the initial onslaught that she was able to shunpo just out of range, taking Morgan with her. The raptors were fast - and Momo, in her energy-sapped state, was slow. On top of having used most of her reserves to cast an unnecessary-but-satisfying level 66 hado spell, she was pulling more than twice her normal weight, as she needed to move Morgan with her reiatsu as well. It was fast enough to stay ahead by mere inches. The pack of snarling, ravenous hunters clamored after her on smooth, swift strides; their powerful legs putting their beartrap-maws behind Momo's steps. A pounce nearly caught her by the ankle, but Momo was quick-witted enough to club it on the snout with her sheathed sword; disorienting it enough to have it fall back.

And then Momo stumbled as her foot slipped over an uneven patch of earth, and her weight twisted; sending her out of balance and careening over Morgan. She screamed in agony as a rabid dinosaur bit hungrily into her shoulder; its teeth sinking deep beneath the flesh. A swipe of talons slashed her across the back of the neck, and Momo did her best to shield Morgan from the pack of carnivores.

She was certain that she would not succeed.

-:-

Ukitake Jushiro's Ikotsu punch crushed straight through the vasto lorde's skull, delivering the finishing blow. One down, twelve more to go, he thought grimly.

A tap on his shoulder distracted him, and he turned around to see a furiously angry Tia Hallibel. Startled, he withdrew his hand from the hollow's (former) face and leapt back, prepared to fight.

She growled at him and kicked up the hollow carcass with a new hole in his head into her hands. "I can kill my own lunch, Ukikate," she snarled, and then in violent jerking motion, her monstrous mouth ripped off the remainder of the vasto lorde's head.

"Uh, okay then," Ukitake answered, a bit surprised to see this turn of events. Apparently, there had been some sort of misunderstanding. "So, uh, about the Secret Peace - "

_"Silence!"_ Hallibel roared, much to Jushiro's surprise. His quiet remained as she ravaged the carcass before it could dissolve to dust; her expanding jaws tearing the uber-hollow into bloody chunks one at a time until the entire thing had been swallowed with barely any chewing at all. After there was nothing left, her cold gaze leveled across at his face. She had not seen the 13th division captain in over a decade, and last she remembered, he had been rather sickly. Now, he was built like a gladiator crossed with a Marshall 71-A6 battalion tank. His beard, though, was ridiculous-looking. Still seething, Tia breathed deeply, and let her gaze soften ever-so-slightly. "First we hunt the traitor scum," she said bluntly. "Only then will there be time for diplomacy."

Ukitake smiled in relief. "Very well."

"Go do something useful," Hallibel cautioned. Ukitake was not a man worthy of her disdain, so she kept things civil. "Save those who cannot escape the heat of battle."

"Aye," Ukitake nodded. He was wise enough to know that one does not argue with the King of Hueco Mundo.

Tia hesitated. "Where is Hitsugaya Taicho?" she asked parenthetically.

Jushiro paused, surprised at the request. "I don't know," he admitted. "All I know is that he was going to the World of the Living."

Tia's hard, stony gaze did not dissipate, but her words were softer and more congenial than her appearance. "Thank you," was all she said; and then a pluck of a string sounded as she warped away on sonido.

-:-

Isane did her best to retain her focus as she tried to talk to Itegumo with her mind while using her mouth to cite medical kido incantations to keep her alive. The raptor's ferrous, blood-laced breath was hot and humid as its jaws snapped within inches of her nose, ears, or any other part of her face that it was trying to assault. The foreclaws were pinned trying to keep the shinigami's sword from entering its scaly hide at the neck, but Isane's lower body was being torn and rended with extreme violence by the monster's vicious, clawed hindlegs.

Itegumo!

ITEGUMO!

Itegumo, I know you can hear me!

WHERE ARE YOU?

_Stop talking to me, you'll lose your focus!_ it finally answered.

You pain-in-the-rear, you can't ignore me! You're my sword, and when I call you, you better come and help me!

_What can I do?_ Itegumo shot back. _You're stuck. I can't help you._

That's it? You're giving up? What is _wrong_ with you! ?

_I'm not giving up,_ Itegumo frowned, annoyed at the insinuation. _But what am I going to do? _

"Everything!" she yelled at him, entering her inner world to stare down the polar bear who, oddly enough, lived in a pine forest.

_Get out of this bind first, and then we can work together._

Isane wasn't having it. She stormed over to him, and then with complete control of herself - a soothed, slow, temperate layer of unwavering calm - bitch-slapped the polar bear. The force knocked him over like he had been hit with a cannonball. _"Now,"_ she insisted.

Exiting her inner world, while still chanting about lillies of the valley encased in poetic sensational vibrance as part of a kido healing ritual, Isane did something for the first time.

She performed her first wordless shikai release.

Two spikes jutted out sharply from the base of her sword, catching the raptor by surprise. The sudden movement caused it to jerk its talons away from the sudden shift and refocus its attention - that was all Isane needed. Even though her sword was being held back in crossbar position by the other paw, the jutting jitte spoke of her shikai was unfettered, and with a fierce sliding motion, she slid her katana across the keratin claws; the spoke of her shikai puncturing straight into the raptor's neck. It roared in agony and ripped its body back in flaring pain; giving Isane enough room to finally move. Still on her back but sword unrestrained now, she jammed it deep into the dinosaur's chest until all three points of her sword were embedded in it.

The beast stumbled, and she was finally free to pull her legs out. She pulled her knees to her chest, planted her feet on each side of her katana, and used all of her leg strength to kick the dinosaur off of her and her blade.

Itegumo's tri-bored wound did unbelievable damage. With multiple gaping holes in the creature's hide, its lifeblood seeped out too fast for it to remain conscious - and it collapsed backwards, overturned.

-:-

The piercing fangs almost bit into Momo's breast this time; but she was saved. Two powerful hands grabbed the dinosaur by the jaws, and with a grunt, the jaw was pried open with enough force to rip the raptor's lower jaw off at the jawline. Roaring in agony, it receded, and Momo looked up to see someone in an unexpected outfit.

With movements so fast that they couldn't even be captured at a hundred frames per second, Momo watched in amazement as Banzo Ichihime - now wearing a 7th division haori, of all things - sliced, slashed, diced, chopped, stabbed, gutted, and otherwise made mince meat of the pack of raptors that had been slashing, clawing, and chewing on Momo.

Whirling, twirling, dashing, rolling, flipping, leaping, and lunging, the lethal ballerina darted in and out of the pack of hunters; evading their powerful tails, their crunching maws, and their razor-sharp talons. She blinded most of them with a stab to the eye, or roasted them up with a _Hado #31: Shot of Crimson Fire,_ or jolted them with hurricane-class lightning bolts from a _Hado #4._ In a few short moments, the platinum-blonde princess had reduced the hunting pack to lizard meat.

"Hinamori Fukutaicho! Are you okay?" Ichihime asked.

"No," she answered with a moan. Do I look okay to you? I have a fucking dinosaur bite in my back, you snobby bitch. "What about him?"

Morgan shifted out from underneath her. "I's pretty badly cuttup," he said, strain and pain emanating from his face. Ichihime could see that he had enormous savage gashes on his legs and arms. His face and chest were scratched up, too; but to Ichihime, it looked like Hinamori had done a very good job of shielding his vitals.

"I'm here!" Isane answered, flickering into place. "Oh my god," she gasped as soon as she saw Hinamori, and started applying medical kido to her immediately.

Ichihime looked at Isane, astounded. "You have your intestines spilling out the front of your body, and you can still move?" Wow, that's _badass._

"I'm fine," Isane insisted. She had already initiated a passive kido spell that was rewinding them back inside as she worked.

"You guys are tough," Ichihime said, not politely enough to sound unsurpised.

"And so am I," Q said from behind all of them. He had managed to put himself back together again. "I haven't had this much fun in ages! Tell me, how do you guys like Japanese Giant Hornets?"

Ichihime's stream of swear words were not fit for Morgan's ears as she hauled him on to her back. Isane did the same for Hinamori, and the two of them began to flee from an enormous swarm of flesh-liquefying insects.

-:-

Nanao saw the blast and heard Rukia's scream, but it was too late to do anything. She could feel Rukia's enormous bankai-level reishi, but the explosion had flooded the area with reishi so strong that it washed away nearly everything else.

She couldn't believe that what she was about to do wasn't just a severe form of overkill, but Nanao knew that she needed to follow through. During their impromptu battle plan huddle, Haru had pulled Nanao aside and explained to her the truth: that not even Haru's sacrificial bankai technique would be enough to take out Kathura. Nanao would need to invoke the dark arts of forbidden kido if they were going to save anyone, and so without anyone but Nanao and Haru knowing, Nanao sent everyone off to die. Haru had been deathly serious when she had indicated that most of the captains of her era had died in the last battle against Kathura.

I can't do this, she thought to herself.

_A general knows that there will always be death on the battlefield,_ her heart of hearts reassured her.

Nanao didn't want to listen to her zanpakutou at all. A general also doesn't send his entire army on a suicide mission, Saya.

_This is the lose-lose calculus of war, Sister. We will kill hundreds of thousands of lives, yes. But in turn, we will save millions. The scale is clear._

You can so lightly think of wiping out hundreds of thousands of lives? And hundreds of years of nothing but a crater of oblivion? Not to mention the chaos and disruption - economic, ecological; Heaven, I can't even think up of all the consequences!

_I am an immortal consciousness from beyond the Gates of Hell. When it comes to the value of life, I see the world in absolutes. We cannot save whom we cannot save. We can save whom we can. It is our duty to destroy in order to preserve. It is not pretty, but it is the reality. Just like the call of Hell's service. We must do what others have no stomach for, because that is our calling. That is the handoshi way._

Nanao wished to protest, but she knew it was futile. There wasn't a way out of this. You're being surprisingly mature for a gluttonous teenage hentai brat, she sighed.

_Yeah, well, if I survive this, I'm going to make you masturbate for a week while I soak in a bath of vodka sauce._

I should throw you on the floor and stomp on you, you horny blood-drinking pain in the ass.

_You've got more important things to do, Sister._

She frowned sadly. I know.

Nanao had no choice but to do her part of the plan - even if it was the most dire catastrophe ever faced by man. She thought of Shuu, Rukia, and Papa as she prepared to unleash her bahido. Grief formed in the pit of her throat. Nanao didn't know if she could stomach being a survivor. She thought of Percival and Miyako-dono. She supposed that she might see them soon enough. She wasn't sure she would be able to look them in the eye.

Nanao didn't know what she would have told Hikaru. Or Hisako. To lose everyone. Even Nanao-obachan. There was the slightest chance that Kuukaku might survive; being the only one fast enough to escape, assuming that she had enough juice to keep using her bankai. It was the only silver lining on the dark storm cloud.

With dread, Nanao finished the incantation.

-:-

All matter in the universe is comprised of atoms. Barring subatomic particles, atoms are the fundamental building blocks of all substance in the universe; and the practical definition of matter. All matter in our known universe is, more or less, comprised of atoms. Every atom consists of a nucleus, comprised of protons and in most cases neutrons as well, and around it spin a cloud of electrons. This is the fundamental nature of matter.

There are, of course, some rare atoms that can exist which do not adhere to this atomic structure. Of them, there is a substance colloquially referred to as neutronium; atoms in which no protons are present in the nucleus. Such atoms have an extremely volatile state, as the electrons spinning around a completely neutral core naturally crave protons in other atoms. Neutronium fusion with normal atoms is a potential theory as to how some stars, which are too large to shine by electron degeneracy pressure, are capable of having the energy needed to emit light.

The other kind of atom that subverts the normal definition of the universe is when the atomic structure is flipped on its head: instead of electrons rotating around a proton-based core, the electrons are in the nucleus and the protons rotate around them (or at least, this is how it is described to the average layperson). This substance is antithetical to the very structure of matter itself. It is therefore commonly referred to as antimatter. Like neutronium, it is highly volatile. However, its volatility is in a completely different class from neutronium, for a particularly critical reason.

When neutronium - a substance with no protons - hits another atom, the atom it fuses with does not change its fundamental nature. Nitrogen that fuses with neutronium is still nitrogen; it just has more neutrons and electrons. Antimatter, however, is a balanced particle. Imagine you have a hyrdrogen atom - a single proton and a single electron. It meets another proton and another electron. If that second proton/electron is normal matter - that is to say, another hyrdrogen atom - you simply end up with a bonded hydrogen molecule; a perfectly normal occurence in everyday life.

However, if that second proton/electron pair is inversed - an antimatter hydrogen atom - then it is a completely different story. Antimatter is exceedingly volatile and will stop at nothing to return to the state in which the universe is supposed to be. The antimatter attacks the matter, depositing its spinning proton in the hyrdogen's nucleus, and the hydrogen's spinning electron joins the electron in the antimatter core. In both cases, a moving particle is thrown into both atoms' nuclei, causing each nucleus to begin rotating. Suddenly, you have two protons and two electrons rotating around each other - a violation of all known rules of atomic structure. The structure must settle. It must come to rest. It must deposit both protons at the center, and have the two electrons spin around this nucleus.

Except now, there is no longer hydrogen. With two protons at its core, it is now helium; releasing all that rotational energy in the form of heat and light. In other words - nuclear fusion. The same explosion that powers the sun - except without prequalifying conditions, e.g. zillion-degree heat, intense pressure. Simply put, matter/antimatter collisons produce cold fusion. Simply enabled by combining hydrogen - the smallest of atoms - with its antimatter equivalent, you instantly create an explosion that today is only observable on the surface of the sun.

Of course, suppose it was possible for an antimatter representation of a much larger atom. Suppose, for example, a super-heavy, radioactive element like plutonium; with its 94 protons. If one were to imagine an antimatter plutonium colliding with the already explosive plutonium, it would create an atom twice as dense, twice as radioactive, and twice as explosive; all the same time releasing a scale of energy far beyond anything that could even be imagined. And if there happened to be more than just a single atom/antimatter collision... imagine the potency of an entire kilogram's worth of matter/antimatter plutonium colliding.

Or, say, the massive quantity of matter that would define a pile of flesh the size of Kathura; nearly two hundred meters across height, width, and depth. That is an enormous amount of matter. Imagine what would happen if something so gargantuan would meet an equal quantity of inversed matter.

And thus, for Nanao to use the expression "playing with fire" - well, let's just say it was an understatement.

Goodbye, Shuu. I love you. _"Bahido_ #99," Nanao uttered, the tears dripping down her face, soaking her haori. Her breath could barely escape enough to speak._ "Antimatter Apocalypse."_

* * *

_I really wanted Isane to answer Ichihime: "S'Just a flesh wound," but I think that evoking Monty Python at that juncture would have been a bit inappropriate.  
__**Please leave a review!** I'm really interested to hear all of your thoughts on this chapter. You have to have a million thoughts racing. Next chapter: What, you think I'm going to tell you? :) -njx_


	52. Coincidence Collision

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Translator's note:** 'Urusai' means 'shut up' (more or less - sometimes it can be more polite than that). 'Ksa' is a deliberately misromanized form of 'kuso', which means 'shit'._

_**Author's note:** I would like to acknowledge a tribute to Tarol Hunt's Goblins in this chapter. Also, in case you didn't know, a daisy cutter is one of the most powerful (non-nuclear) warheads that are considered acceptable in conventional modern warfare._

* * *

_"Uh, Okaasama, I would never lie to you -"_

_"-Uh oh," Ichihime grimaced. "This sounds bad."_

_"You're not going to believe this."_

_Ichihime's eyebrow raised as she studied her eldest son. Vojiro was obviously in deep trouble, because he had brought Sarashina with him for support. She was always backing him up. Not that Vojiro was a bad kid - he was actually a true gentleman and a good soul - but you know how it is. Teenagers find their way into all kinds of messes; especially ones that are not of their own making. "Pray tell. What is it now?"_

_Surprisingly, it was Sarashina who took up the next sentence. "So, you know how you asked us to keep an eye on Lulu, right?"_

_Ichihime's attention was now fully seized. Lulu, the second youngest of Ichihime's and Adame's twenty-two children, was still rather young - still an overcurious toddler. In other words, adorably cute and highly prone to getting herself into trouble. Ichihime's voice flattened. "Where is she?" the head of house leveled at her eldest heirs._

_"...She's on top of the clock tower," Vojiro admitted, flinching._

_"On top of the clo- what? Vo-kun, how in the world did she-?"_

_"I'll answer that," Sarashina volunteered, sticking up her finger voluntarily, interrupting her mother in exceptionally rare form. "She flew up there."_

_"She fl- what?"_

_"Uh, yeah, she flew," Vojiro muttered in agreement, rubbing the back of his neck and letting his platinum bangs hide his eyes to escape his mother's wide-eyed stare. Oh kami, she was totally going to blow a gasket._

_"And just how exactly did that happen?" Ichihime stared coldly at her daughter. This must have been some seriously backfired kido. Sarashina's kido was superb, which means either Vojiro was attempting something stupid, or Sarashina had been trying something extraordinarily stupid. The latter was unlikely for Sarashina, but it was the only possible explanation that Ichihime could muster. Although the Banzo family was historically well known for its kido prowess, Vojiro had inherited his mother's more mundane skill level in the demon arts. (It was the price for inheriting her exceptional close-quarter combat skills, she supposed.)_

_Vojiro stammered. "Well, Okaasama, you see - "_

_"- Lulu turned into a bat," Sarashina finally explained._

_"A bat?"_

_"...Yeah, a bat. And that's why she's on top of the clock tower."_

_~ The discovery that animorphistics (a rare ability previously only known in the Shihoin family) had been introduced into the Banzo bloodline, circa 150 years into the future_

* * *

_"...I suppose improbable and impossible are not the same thing."  
__~ former 14th seat of the 12th division, Rantao Kiku; upon learning that she was to be promoted to lieutenant of the 12th division; not too long ago_

* * *

There are so many variables in destiny that we can never predict what can happen._ One:_

Thanatos flung himself quickly through the Void, constantly checking over his shoulder. He had played his cards wisely (so he believed), but one could never be too careful.

The instigator of the vasto lorde rebellion, Thanatos was annoyed with Hallibel-sama. She had selected a team of loyal vasto lorde subjects to accompany her on a mission to Earth; where they would dine on the hollows of Europe. Thanatos had wanted to go on that trip; permission to leave the dreary moon-rot skies of Hueco Mundo was rare. True, he would have to abide by the Secret Peace, but at least there would be a change of scenery. And, as much as he would have supposed to "abide" by the Secret Peace, there was always the possibility of a few... ahem, _unexplained_ incidents.

Most of the vasto lorde complied with the Secret Peace begrudgingly, including Thanatos. It used to be that Hueco Mundo's most powerful hollows were solitary creatures; until Aizen had started to unite them. Hallibel, unquestionably the most powerful living hollow in any known dimension, had succeeded over her predecessor Barragan in whipping the other vasto lorde (who, unlike Hallibel, were not arrancar and thus could not even remotely compete with her strength) into submission. It was fear of the Shark King that kept most of them in line.

Hallibel had a few stalwart supporters outside of her two arrancar subordinates, Neliel and Gantennbaine. Kresus and Kronor, two ancient, powerful menos grande who had once run from the Royal Guard, were relieved that they would be left alone if they restricted their diet to other high-level hollows - a worthwhile tradeoff considering that the taste of an adjuchas's meat was far more delicious then the empty gillians or piddling non-menos. It wasn't human or shinigami flesh, but Kresus and Kronor had no desire to cross blades with Nikayui Shirani again. The other stalwart subject, Jezebel, was the only female vasto lorde in Hueco Mundo after Hallibel; and much preferred The King's protection. There were a few others - Viscous, Biter, and Damasek - who were less concerned about the Secret Peace but generally remained loyal to the Shark King in hopes that they could court her.

(It was a pipe dream, Thanatos knew, but Damasek in particular was a vain and handsome hollow - relatively speaking - and it was a fantasy of many to bed the blonde. How safe that was, of course, was something they probably never thought about. Thanatos envisioned Hallibel biting off the head of her mate much the same way a praying mantis does - it was a reason he never even entertained the possibility, as desirous as Hallibel was.)

Damasek and Biter had wooed their way to Earth to dine on rampant hollow flesh, but Viscous had already met his end in Soul Society at the hands of Ukitake Jushiro. (Fool, thought Thanatos. You don't mess around with the white-haired ones. Even if you kill them, you risk the King's wrath. Unwise, unwise.) The remaining group of vasto lorde - a group of twenty-or-so misfits - had kept the Secret Peace out of fear of the King. It was said that if you put your ear to the King's stomach, you could hear the wailing screams of atrocious agony and the begging and pleading of the many hollows who had ended up nurturing the King. Whomever had the audacity to place their ear on Hallibel's stomach and live to walk away with it - that, Thanatos wasn't sure about.

Riling up the other less-than-loyal subjects of The King had been easy (only Viscous needed any real convincing), and with the diversion in place, Thanatos led the others to an easy exit into Soul Society. There, they had managed to whet their appetites with shingami flesh before the captains showed up. Thanatos knew that Hallibel would certainly come to punish them, and so he had pre-devised his escape plan.

Exiting Soul Society before Hallibel could show up, Thanatos would travel to the World of the Living; finding the juiciest place on Earth to sink his hideous bony jaws into human flesh. If Thanatos was lucky, he could devour a few hundred thousand or so - possibly more if they were weak - before darting back into Hueco Mundo to proclaim his innocence. 'No, Hallibel-sama, of course I did not join them!' Thanatos would claim. 'Liars! All of them! I was here!' he could say.

In his mind, it was a reasonable plan. To us, it was a bit naive, as we all can realize - but then, Thanatos had never been the smartest hollow in the hole.

For when he opened a garganta into the Land of the Living - into the 'juiciest place on Earth', as he desired - well, perhaps he should have been a little less greedy.

-:-

Destiny manifests in parts and forms._ Two:_

What Rukia was witnessing before her eyes was an explosion of a scale she had never seen before. The supernova that former captain Haru Isuzu-Mia had thrown into the fray put Rukia - one of the strongest shinigami in the Gotei 13 - on the brink of life and death, surely as it had done for all the others on scene. And, like the others, Rukia's instinct hurled her into that split-second wartime evaluation in the mind; that moment of danger that is seized as an instigation to battle your inner soul to beg it for a solution. It was a trait that her husband Ichigo was famous for, but was an escalation that rarely came to the calculating, deliberate soul of Kuchiki Rukia.

Still, Sode no Shirayuki had seized her attention at that very moment. It was do-or-die. _Rukia-sama, you must contain it!_

How? Rukia asked - but she already knew the answer. This was not something Rukia could turn to her katana for. This was about an area that Rukia had yet to fully capitalize on: for as good as Rukia's kido was, this was where she had room to grow; to expand; to learn.

_'And what a sisterly tie it is' / 'That seizes soul and sequesters bonds' / 'For hearts join by love o'er birth' / 'As dost the twining thou discover', _Sode no Shirayuki whispered subconsciously.

These words of the poet Kobayashi could have been none more prophetic. For while Rukia's deep love and endless bond with her husband was an unparallelled depth of entwined soul, they suceeded because they were different. Because they were, in so many ways, opposites. They complimented each other, supplemented each other, made up for each other's deficiencies and shortcomings.

Yet when it came to the wellspring of power that resides in the soulcore, Ichigo could not have been more different than Rukia. His power was a surging upflow that was a limitless fountain of energy, matched to his limitless selflessness for the protection of others. It was a resolve born of self-efficacy; of a humility - that others were what gave him the power to be strong. Without them, he was nothing.

Rukia's soulcore, however, was not so. It did not burst forth with an unstoppable force of protective instinct. Hers was an essence no less noble but so very different in substance. Rukia's great force came from an altogether different means: responsibility. Rukia had once given up on herself, and it had thrust her into despair and failure. She had lost the motivation to succeed. It was only after she had been reminded of her responsibility to avenge, to live, to honor the expectations of the fallen - and the trials that followed that proved she had the means to meet those obligations - that she emerged with bankai; a power so elusive yet so astonishingly strong. Her role as Grand Lady of the Kuchiki House; her responsibility to move forward from Head Lieutenant and become a captain despite her sentimental constraints - it was responsibility that drove the core strength in Rukia's soul.

Now, she had a responsibility: to defy death. For her, for her comrades, for all.

It was in this fashion that Rukia took after someone else so dear to her: her "nee-san", Ise Nanao; whose own soulcore was bound to duty. Duty is different from responsibility, but they are similar both in nature and in function. Kobayashi understood: sister in soul is just as potent as sister by birth. Therefore, it should surprise no one that, as Rukia's reishi began to flow forth, her soul - bearing responsibility as much as Nanao bore duty - that Rukia's path reflected that of her nee-san.

And so without realizing it, Rukia cast her very first bahido spell. Bahido - a study of kido discovered by Nanao so difficult that it was only accessible to the most talented kido practitioners - was something that Rukia could not even put name to. Rukia, who had not yet surpassed the offensive kido skills of her once-mentor Hinamori Momo, channeled the incredible adrenaline-fused force bubbling up inside her. With words uttered in the Arcane Language of the Ancients, Rukia's arm snapped out, across, over, and balled into a fist; feeling the chi, chakra, reishi, reiatsu, and any other type of spiritual energy that man can describe. In that fist, it vibrated for only a moment before Rukia unleashed it upon the world.

Rukia never felt resolve so insistent, determined, perfect. So now, she knew how Ichigo felt as the words to the spell mysteriously found themselves upon her lips: _"Bahido #57: Enter the Ironbound."_

-:-

Timing is everything. Sometimes, even timing itself is part of Fate's plan._ Three:_

The shinnodake gate parted fast enough for a very agitated shinigami to come darting through at speeds far faster than a dive-bombing peregrine falcon.

What a pompous fool, she thought. That runt is going to decimate half of the human race.

As she approached, she spread her clawed feet wide in preparation.

-:-

There have been many times throughout history where our understanding of the universe has been flipped completely upside down. As physicists, cosmologists, biologists, and other members of the advanced sciences plumb existence for answers, they sometimes stumble across monumental discoveries that radically alter everything we know.

That the Earth was not flat. Copernicus; that we rotated around the sun, and not the other way around. Newton's discovery of Earth's gravitational constant; that it is the same for objects big and small. Antoine Lavoisier discovering the conservation of mass. Michael Faraday and electromagnetic induction. James Prescott Joule's first law of thermodynamics: the conservation of energy. Einstein's theory of relativity. The Heisenberg uncertainty priniciple. Arno Penzias's astonishing shock at finding proof of the Big Bang. String theory. The discovery of quarks and quantum computing. Every single one of these discoveries radically redefined physics as we knew it.

In case one was curious - so it shall continue. _Four:_

Approximately 75 years into the future, Professor Sarah Frankel-Koenigsburg will write a white paper entitled _The Frankel Theory of Magnetic Dynamitism_, completely shattering all known understanding about magnetic force and its relationship with electricity. It will enable the first wave of commercially viable hovercars. More importantly, hoverchairs will surpass wheelchairs as the primary method of movement for the physically handicapped, granting them unprecedented levels of freedom of movement.

Within around 130 years from now, Dr. Kingston Nueve Delmonaco De'Laquarza will finally establish the equations that define anti-singularity. These equations will become the foundations of the next five hundred years of travel through wormholes in space.

And 185 years in the future, the leading cosmophysicist of the era, Dr. Zahava Bar-Navon, will win the Nobel Prize for her ground-breaking discovery of the Implosive Law of Thermodynamics, ultimately revealing secrets about the Big Bang's state prior to its bang. It is this particular discovery that is of current interest to us at this time.

Today's scientists posit that prior to the Big Bang, all matter that comprises our known universe was condensed into a single point so dense that the explosion merely pushed existing matter outwards to form what we know today as the earth and sky and everything in between. The reasons for theorizing this is obvious: the matter couldn't just randomly appear - religious pretexts aside - and thus the explosion must have started will all of the matter we have today.

The challenge to that position is obvious: how could so much matter be compressed into something so small? The most accepted answer is that, since the universe started so small, there was no other place for the matter to be. Hence it was simply crammed in the known dimensions of the universe, and thus it had to fit somehow.

Through the use of an ultra-high-density particle accelerator, built on (in part) by the discoveries of Frankel and De'Laquarza, Bar-Navon devised and then substantiated an entirely different reason. She believed that - scientifically speaking - matter did not actually exist prior to the Big Bang; a claim that obviously earned her favor from religious leaders and skepticism from the scientific community. Until, of course, she could prove it; changing everything physicists understand about matter.

Bar-Navon started with the obvious: the densest material known to all of physics is, quite simply, the atomic core. Core atomic particles (protons and neutrons) are all smushed together at a density so high that it physically defines the substance matter. Bar-Navon defined it simply: all of the matter of the universe, all of the protons and neutrons and electrons that would become our universe, were combined together in one gigantic, singular, solitary super-atom.

The super-atom idea, of course, had been thought of before, but had always been dismissed; for a wide range of technical and semantic reasons that made it impossible to fit into the established equations known to mankind. That was Bar-Navon's brilliance: of course the equations don't work with a super-atom. They shouldn't. What they do corroborate, however, is an alternate substance to the super-atom. Instead, she insisted that the pre-Bang super-atom was not actually an atom. She instead insisted that it was actually just an atomic core of pure neutrons: no protons, no electrons. It was not an atom (not even neutronium!) - for it had nothing but neutrons, albeit with the density of an atomic core.

Thus, there was technically no 'matter' until the Big Bang. Just an ultra-dense core of neutrons. The process of the Big Bang was more than just rapid expansion: it was the actual splitting of each neutron into protons and electrons, thereby creating matter where it did not previously exist. Bar-Navon was able to successfully demonstrate this possibility by being the first physicist to split a neutron into a proton/electron pair - hydrogen - and then re-fuse it back to a neutron. Until that point, the idea that neutrons were actually capable of becoming charged particles (protons or electrons) was impossible to believe. The equations that she was able to derive from this experiment were so mind-bogglingly nonsensical that they rivaled the absurdity of the Heisenberg principle. However, countless experiments performed afterwards by her peers, as well as intense scrutiny from the entire academic field, proved that however absurd, the Bar-Navon equations defining the Implosive Laws of Thermodynamics - under what conditions would protons and electrons fuse into neutrons - were not only sound, but _must_ be true.

Not only that, but Bar-Navon was able to prove that radiation - ultra-large atoms that are too big to sustain themselves and thus leak particles - is just the Big Bang on a smaller scale; a process by which super-dense atoms expand outwards. This exciting revelation led to new research in radiation which in turn caused many new discoveries, such as Quatresco's Law of Half-Spin Radiation; which led to new forms of nuclear energy that were safer and cheaper to build, finally reducing mankind's dependence on fossil fuels.

And so, two hundred years from now, every single high-school physics class includes material devoted to the review of Bar-Navon's exceptionally brilliant discovery in physics.

-:-

A great aspect of kido is concentration. Solidity of thought; deliberation; a measured steadiness of mental focus. That is the ultimate purpose of the incantation - to focus, to pinpoint, to concentrate and consolidate the thought into a needle-thin stream of energy that can be threaded through the fabric of space-time. Impulsivity has no place in kido.

Of course, the obvious consequence is that being disturbed in the middle of casting a potent kido spell is likely to severely inhibit it from reaching it's full potential. Perhaps not by much, but it may only be 70% of the anticipated potency.

Ise Nanao, however, had exceptional focus. It would take a tank battalion crashing into her from all sides in order to ruin her concentration.

Or, maybe, a bat in her hair.

-:-

Deep inside and all over Kathura's vile flesh, entire amino acids' worth of molecules were colliding with their antimatter equivalents. The energy created by the collision of such huge quantities of matter/antimatter molecular chains was so large that it could not be measured using any known metric prefix for watts or joules. The energy was unfathomable; immeasurable; infinite by comparison to anything that could be described in modern scientific lingo. It should have rivaled billions - possibly trillions - of nuclear bombs being dropped in the same spot; or if the sun that powered our solar system were to collapse.

It so happens, however, that combined with unique cicurmstances of physics associated with the sacrificial Supernova Terraforma, a threshhold was crossed. The pressure so precise, the temperature so exact, the amount of energy so massive - all of the details defining the immensely improbable; they came into perfect symphonic harmony at that very moment.

Instead of an explosion, an _implosion_ happened - according to the as-of-yet undiscovered Bar-Navon's Implosive Law of Thermodynamics. The amount of energy created was so catastrophically large that it was enough to begin the process of proton-electron fusion into neutrons, and then neutron-core collapses until eventually, a super-dense mega-atomic core of pure neutrons was formed. By the limited calculations of today's understanding of modern physics, all of that light and heat and explosive force should have caused a nuclear holocaust so large that it would have vaporized North America, the Arctic circle, and ripped straight through the Earth's mantle; literally throwing the Earth off of its rotational axis. The sound waves would have been so powerful that they would have shattered the skull of anyone as far south as Venezuela. The radiation should have caused the entire Western world to become inhabitable for three thousand years, destroy the world's economy and plunge it into chaos, causing post-apocalyptic anarchy, and the eventual death and decimation of mankind to hunger and starvation.

But that's not what happened.

Because instead, all of that heat, light, radiation, and movement was enough to power an implosive process; sucking all of that immense energy into a ball so tight that it literally crushed Kathura into a stable atomic speck of neutrons no bigger than 1/100th of a bacterium.

Had Nanao been at full concentration, the amount of energy left over would have still decimated all of New York. It would have been worse than a nuclear bomb; it would have been catastrophic regardless. But at only 92.7% of its total potency, it was reduced just _barely_ enough for a shinigami princess to affect it. That massive explosion still would have had an absurd affect on the Empire State, but the fledgling bahido spell was powered by a zotokai-class captain; and instead of plutonium-level destruction, out emerged your average fifteen-megaton daisy cutter disaster, an explosion of reasonably large destructive capability but mundane and trivial by apocalyptic standards.

In fact, that explosion would have easily killed Hisagi, Komamura, Byakuya, Kiyone, and potentially even Rukia. By all logic, it should have baked them from the inside out; especially since they were so close to the barrier. Thankfully, Fate had other plans, and a very stupid hollow (who thought that they could escape their fate) had managed to open a garganta right next to the source of the explosion; sucking in over 65% of the blast and vaporizing its traveler.

And so, to all those watching, Nanao's apocalyptic kido looked not much more than her average _Hado #83: Hellfire._ An _assload_ of destruction, for sure - but it was so anti-climactic that Ise Nanao, Major General of the Kido Corps, had actually wondered for the very first time if a spell of hers had fizzled. After all, while many of the shinigami team were singed and scorched badly, it wasn't strong enough to kill any of them.

So just like that, Kathura was gone in a blaze of fiery death, with only one casualty - Haru Isuzu-Mia, who had offered herself up on the altar of grace and compassion. And no one in the world - including Nanao herself - would ever really understand exactly what happened.

-:-

Nanao was stupefied. One moment she was casting an apocalyptic kido spell, and the next moment she was suddenly yanked backwards by her hair with violent force, the strain tugging at the roots of her scalp enough to make the iron-core woman flinch in pain on the ground.

"You urchin-blooded excrement from a fool's turdhole," a woman's voice said, flicking her to the ground. "Do you wish to get us all killed?"

Nanao's ear was hot and sore from where it struck the dirt. It was then that she realized that she was still alive - so, by all measures, a swollen ear wasn't much to complain about. She could hear another voice - a man's this time. "Now, now; no reason to get snippy, darling."

"Don't call me darling," the female snapped. Nanao's vision was still too clouded from the concussion to make her out clearly when she looked up. Then she realized her glasses had been dislodged. She readjusted them as her assailant continued. "Please; the only reason I put up with you is because I must. Now shut thy mouth; every time you open it you are an insult to circus clowns worldwide."

Nanao's replaced glasses allowed her to see who was talking. She groaned as she began to lift herself back up, allowing her eyes to trace up the woman's form.

Now, Ise Nanao was not a lesbian; although considering her lustful tendencies, she had not necessarily been opposed to dabbling with another of her gender just to see what it would be like. The woman before her, however, would have converted Nanao in an instant. She was undoubtedly the sexiest, most luscious, delicious, sultry woman Nanao had ever seen. She was of average height - perhaps a touch shorter than average - with sculpted curves; a perfectly-shaped teardrop bust with tiny, perky nipples poking through her second-skin spandex Onmitsukido uniform. The woman was of Indian/Bengali ethnicity, with tinted brown skin, almond eyes and a seductively thin brow. Round cheekbones framing aligned gleaming white square teeth and silk-straight feathery black hair were flawless; Nanao could tell from the woman's seductively slanted hips that her ass must have been to die for. Even her barefoot feet were attractive; slender, sloped, and impeccably manicured. In fact, the only thing _not_ sexy about the woman was her scowl of petty disdain.

In the process of Nanao's admiration of the woman's finer points - oh god, I _wish_ I had boobs like that - Nanao realized the woman was wearing a red scarf. Turning her attention to the man, Nanao did a double-take. He was wearing a red cape but was otherwise a perfect replica of the late Banzo Tanabi, except aged a good few centuries. Unlike Tanabi, though, he had a soft, kind look; a jovial one that was seemingly friendly. It was a complete mismatch from the permanently etched contempt she had come to see on the face of the cruel man she had assassinated a decade ago.

"Get up," the woman ordered, kicking Nanao in the ribs. The air escaped Nanao's lungs with a sickening crack in her side; sending a blossoming flower of pain throughout her entire torso.

"Stop that, Shiri-chan, you - "

Nanao didn't even see how the woman's tachi (which came out of nowhere) made it to the man's throat. "Call me that again and I swear I will cut out your voicebox, eat it, shit it out, and put it back."

The man did nothing more than smile. "Kiri-chan was thinking about enrolling you in an anger management class. She's always watching, darling."

"Hikifune can suck my crotch."

"Well, given her sexual preference, she might like that very much, I'm sure," the old man laughed. "Now if only your lonely husband would be able to witness that spectacle; I'm sure he would be rather entertained."

"_Urusai_, Geezer-san," the woman snapped with a disgusted frown, the tachi vanishing in a wisp of smoke. "Go juggle some unicycles. Royalty or not, you aren't worthy to speak of my husband."

By now, Nanao had made it to her feet; but her side ached like an absolute bitch. That kick must have broken a rib or two or three or seven. This was not exactly how she would have envisioned her first face-to-face meeting with the Royal Guard. In between wheezes and the shit-that-motherfucking-_hurts_ pain in her ribs, Nanao could barely squeeze out a question as she applied medical kido to her side. "What... are... you... guys... doing... here?"

"That's a good question, I must say," the elderly statesman said whimsically. "I suppose it wasn't to join you for elderberry wine and raspberry truffle crumpets, with saffron-sauce-laced scallops - "

"_Urusai_, you discombobulated, wrinkly, addled farmboy," the woman snapped to interrupt.

"Don't mind her," the older man said askance to Nanao in a jovial smile. "She just hates to miss tea time."

The west-Asian woman scowled even harder but otherwise ignored him. She returned her attention to Nanao. "Listen to me, you little commoner clod-footed fuckup, if you so dare as try another stunt like that, so help me I will shove that forbidden apocalyptic kido straight down your bankai hole until it pushes out your spitwick."

Nanao had no idea what a spitwick was, nor could she understand how someone of seemingly noble background could have such a foul manner of speech; but she wasn't going to push her luck. Despite three minutes of healing kido, her ribs still hurt like a bitch. "Yes, ma'am."

The woman slapped her across the face with a savage backhanded swipe. It really didn't help Nanao's concussion. Not one bit. "That's _'Hai, Nikayui-sama o gazai mashita,'_ you slop of whore's twatjuice."

_Damn_, Nanao thought, inspecting the inside of her jaw with her tongue to make sure none of her teeth were broken. Given what Nanao had gathered, this must have been Banzo-sama's mother-in-law-to-be, Nikayui Shirani. It was hard to imagine that Ichihime's mother-in-law had an even more vulgar sense of profanity than the Banzo princess herself. _"Hai, Nikayui-sama o gazai mashita,"_ Nanao repeated deferentially, bowing. In her mind, she was thinking up how to inflict eighty-six different forms of violently painful torture on the woman. Most of them involved some sort of sexual satisfaction on Nanao's part, too, although she thought that perhaps that was crossing the line between righteous vengeance and sadistic sin. Which, in Nanao's case, was a very thin line.

The other one, who had to be the eccentric Banzo Jirobu (Ichihime's grandfather, who was by marriage and adoption Nanao's great uncle - Nanao had heard stories about him from Papa), patted her on the shoulder. "Come now, darling," he said, addressing Nanao with the odd term of endearment this time. "No sense in getting your wild horses bridled with candy canes over a spade of cobblestones, now?"

Huh? was all Nanao could think. Uh... okay, yeah, whatever. Well, at least you're not interested in slaughtering me for killing your son. Former Head of House Banzo Jirobu had been the Major General of the Kido Corps immediately after the vanishing of Tsukabishi Tessai, so Nanao knew from the Kido Corps files that Jirobu was an exceptionally powerful mage; one of the strongest the Kido Corps had ever seen. He had far outclassed his son and made Tsukabishi look like a novice - it was no wonder he had been recruited for Division Zero. Nanao had no desire to cross kido with him.

"We must be going," Jirobu continued. "Deal with Lunatic the Nutcase over there. You've seen the biggest problem - that zanpakutou of his contains the demon sword Shishi-Oh. It allows him to summon any mythical monster from any dimension. We, of course, were here in case you failed to deal with Kathura. Now that you've managed to mop up that spilt honey-mayonnaise dressing, we can leave the rest to you. Unless it gets too challenging. Oh, look at that, it appears to be that he's summoning the Minotaur. Sounds like you'll have some fun!"

"You piss me off," Shirani muttered. "_Both_ of you. I'm leaving. Cat-Lady Kirio can shove her tongue up my ass for all I care." In a poof of smoke, the lady vanished; replaced by a large brown bat with sleek wings that flapped away. Nanao could have sworn the bat was sneering at her.

Jirobu chuckled and gave Nanao a sympathetic look. "You would have your hoosijymee in a perplexed krissia if you ate four hundred mosquitos an hour, too."

My what in a perplexed what? Nanao wondered, confused. "Uh - "

"No matter, we depart!" Jirobu announced enthusiastically with a flourish of regal pomp, and a gate opened next to him. Nanao had never seen a shinnodake gate before, but it bore enough resemblance to a senkai gate that she realized what it was. The old mage walked through while humming the 1812 Overture, and then Nanao was alone.

That had to be the most bizarre battlefield huddle I have ever had, Nanao mused, befuddled considerably more than usual. Shaking off the experience, Nanao rushed off towards the battlefield, wincing at the pain blossoms in her side. She was sure that, no matter how much her kido must have fizzled (or been stopped by the Royal Guard? Who knew what had happened?), there were likely very bad injuries - and all of them were her fault.

-:-

Hinamori, slumped over Isane's shoulder, screamed in agony as three Japanese giant hornets - that had somehow been faster than the darkened swarm-cloud of their hornet brethren still behind them - stung her in the eyebrow, scalp, and cheek around her artificial eye. The flaring, burning pain caused Hinamori to howl; the venom began to liquefy the flesh, causing her skin to sag and the nerves inside to roar with a torturous agony that could not be believed. Momo began to claw at her face and scalp like a rabid animal; anything to get rid of the god-ringing agony.

Ichihime, who was carrying the human over her shoulder, heard the yell and promptly slashed through the invaders with a single swipe of her tanto; almost nicking Momo in the face. The three halved hornets fell and the group continued. "Kotetsu, can't you do something? Invoke some kido or something!"

Isane shook her head, pointing to her mouth. Ichihime realized that she was chanting healing kido, hopefully for Momo's face.

"Sonuvacrap," Ichihime muttered. My bakudo sucks balls. I couldn't contain a swarm like that.

_Actually, why not just burn them out of existence?_ Shiji suggested. _Captain's Bankai Power Boost, right? Your hado is much stronger now. I bet you could pull off something grand._

Wow, you are actually being helpful for a change, Ichihime grinned inside. She hadn't thought about that - while Ichihime's bakudo was very weak and her medical kido nonexistent, she was fairly talented in hado in comparison to most shinigami. Alright, let's try.

Ichihime darted left and right to try and stay ahead of the swarm, but devoted most of her attention to the incantation she was reciting under her breath. It was long and complicated, and Ichihime was positive it was beyond anything she had ever tried to use before. Still, it was a gamble she could take. When the pit of reishi welled in her chest enough that Ichihime thought she might actually pull it off, she stopped on a dime, turned, and extended her palm forward. _"Hado #58: Wall of Scorching Fire!"_

With a blaze of arson, a huge sheet of flame erupted straight out of the ground just as Isane flickered past. Ichihime could feel the razing heat prickle against her skin; it caused a sheen sweat at the stifling roaring-oven blast of sizzling air that cooked all around them. Ichihime couldn't believe what she had done: a wall of searing blazes ten meters high and over two feet thick, burning so hot that it hurt her eyes to even look into it for too long. It wasn't very wide - only twenty feet or so - but it caught a huge swath of the hornet swarm, incinerating their bodies, baking them instantly; anything that was left came through with little momentum and just death-spiralled into the ground.

Most of the surviving hornets that made their way around the firetrap did not do so well - they were badly disoriented by the heat and smoke. Isane made sure they met their partners' fate with a simple _Hado #31: Shot of Crimson Fire;_ a fireball large enough to eradicate them and fly straight through the firewall towards a cackling Q.

Far out of range of the madman, Ichihime set down the human next to Isane, who was desperately trying to get control of a flailing Hinamori. Together with Isane, Ichihime held down the bucking woman, who was desperately ravaging her face with her nails; clawing away at the melting skin. She was screaming a wretched wail of affliction, seizuring in a paroxysm of frustration, her eyes watering in burning pain. Isane, for her part, was urgently trying to repair the damage with kido; but Hinamori's violent movement made it difficult.

_"Lookk owt!"_ Morgan called. Ichihime's response time was fast enough to raise her hands to catch an enormous wooden club the size of a small oak tree come crashing down on her. It crushed through her arms and into her shoulder, shattering her collarbone in a burst of breath-stealing pain - but her stance held, taking the brunt of the impact and saving Isane and her two patients from under the monstrous weapon.

The club lifted and Ichihime was looking at a huge man with the head of a bull. Holy fucking hell, that's a goddamned _minotaur._ _Ksa_ with a double side order of _fuck._

Ichihime readied for the next blow to crush her into a pile of broken bones, but quick thinking from Isane - who could cast hado and bakudo at the same time she used medical kido - saved her. A significantly sizable_ Bakudo #39: Arc Shield_ stopped the monster's implement from smashing Ichihime's skull in.

"Banzo-sama!" Isane called. "Are you alright?"

Ichihime winced. The pain was so intense that it brought tears to her eyes every time she breathed. "...No," she gasped, and collapsed to the earth in an incapacitated heap. She was losing blood through a punctured hole in the cavity between her neck and chest; the soft spot between her now-demolished collarbones.

Roaring an inhuman charge, the minotaur blew steam out of its nose and swung its club down again on top of them. Isane moved the Arc Shield, but she was running out of time. The pounding came down over and over, chipping away until the bakudo shield finally shattered into a trillion pieces.

Withdrawing Itegumo, Isane braced for the worst. There was no way she could save the three of them unless she figured a way out of this.

Seeing a defiant shinigami, the minotaur roared a bellow so loud that it could be felt all the way down in Isane's knees. The club raised to strike, and when it swing down, Isane was prepared to experience quite a few broken bones.

But only air swooshed past as a massive, gory burst of blood sprayed forth from the minotaur's arm, the heavy club falling backwards and clunking it on the head.

Startled, Isane looked around, but she had no idea what happened. Her attention was distracted when seconds later, the beast's lower jaw was torn out in a sudden flicker of speed that Isane couldn't even see. Raging in choleric violence, the minotaur swung its remaining arm haphazardly as though it were trying to swat a fly; and another spray of hot steaming blood doused Isane's face as the mythical beast was severed at the knee, toppling it over.

Isane didn't hesitate. Normally, she would - she had suffered a lifetime full of hesitations and doubts. But not anymore. Isane was done with hesitation. Never again. With a swift and vicious upswing, she tore Itegumo straight through the creature's exposed neck and throat, cleaving off the head like she was holding a golfer's hatchet.

"Nice job," came a voice behind her; and Isane turned around with a relieved smile.

"Thought you could use a hand," Hana Tsubaki smiled. With one hand, she flicked her zanpakutou downwards to clean it of its kill, and with the other, she handed Isane a 4th division emergency medical supply pack. "I got it from here, Kotetsu-san."

Isane's relief was unparalleled. She took the supply pack from the 2nd division 3rd seat and got right to work. "Target is the man in the suit, about a hundred yards from the firewall."

Tsubaki nodded. "Save them," she wished Isane earnestly, and then she vanished in a haze of speedy shunpo, leaving behind a tender afterimage of someone far too nice for the job of a cold-blooded killer.

-:-

The steel that met Q's blade was so mighty that it knocked him off his feet. He hadn't even seen a strike coming, but before he could react and scamper back to his feet, he had been sliced, diced, hacked, and severed limb from limb. Whomever he was fighting was faster than a jackrabbit; speedily darting across him, over him, around him, and _through_ him too fast for his eyes to train. Soon, over ninety percent of blood in his body had gushed out over the dirt as Q was gazing at his body in multiple pieces strewn all over the place. "What... the... fuck...?"

A beautiful woman - very young, tall; with long black straight hair tied up in a ponytail atop her head and a cute turned-up button nose - sheathed her sword. _"Die,"_ she ordered him.

Just this once, he thought, and faded to black. I'll see you again soon, you little _bitch._

-:-

Nanao reached Rukia first. She was a mess; a fainted limp body with severe burns. Nanao was not one for hysterics, but she began to cry in a fearful panic that Rukia hadn't made it. When she felt a heartbeat, strong and steady, she flashed away from the body over to Shuu, feeling the same pit of worry. He was in bad shape; the whole left side of his body was badly roasted. His skin was black with char and white blisters. Kiyone was close by and was even worse, although Abarai was not as bad. His condition was 'severe' rather than 'grave'. A quick inspection indicated that Byakuya had been scorched but was still in passable condition; Kuukaku had rescued him in the nick of time.

"Shiba Taicho!"

Kuukaku landed next to her, still in bankai. Her flames had dwindled down to the surface of her skin, and Nanao could tell she was running out of juice. She was frantic and emotional, as could be expected from her. "Quickly - Komamura is gravely injured, he might not make it - I sealed his reiatsu to keep it from leaking, but - "

"I will tend to him," Byakuya offered, sitting up. "Ise-san - take care of Hisagi and Kotetsu. Abarai-san will hold out."

Nanao nodded in agreement. "Shiba Taicho - go check on the others. I think I heard Hinamori screaming - she should be with Banzo Taicho."

"Ah," Kuukaku accepted, and burst off so fast it left behind a small sonic boom.

Kami-sama, what the heaven am I going to do? Nanao panicked as she looked down on the charred forms of Shuu and Kiyone. She was good at medical kido, but she wasn't 4th division talent. She couldn't heal two people at once. On top of that, she was pretty depleted; more than she had been in a long time.

Oh god, Shuu, I swear I am so sorry, I am so sorry, oh god... Nanao worked to place a yellow glowing reishi containment box around the two subjects, and slowly started to fuse reishi inside. It was good hospital practice but bad battlefield medicine: it was a safe, steady process that promised good results, but it took a long time and left her open and vulnerable to attack. It was the best that Nanao could think of: she hoped that the others would be able to help keep her and the others safe.

Shuu, Shuu - please, you _have_ to make it through this. I swear, please, I promise. I love you too much for this; you cannot die, you can't. I swear, I'll do anything. _Anything._ I'll even fucking goddamn _marry_ you and have _kids_ if you want; just _please_, you have to get through this. Kami-sama, please, please, please... Make it, please, dear god, please...

-:-

Kuukaku landed and closed her bankai next to Isane, who was struggling with three patients. Momo wasn't in danger from anyone but herself: she was having a full-blown panic attack. The human was the best of the bunch - he was in shock but didn't seem to have any life-threatening or immobilizing physical injuries. Banzo, however, was in awful shape. To Kuukaku's relief, though, it was evident that Tsubaki-chan (who often babysitted Hisako) had arrived with much-needed medical supplies. She was helping Isane, listening to instructions; pressing gauze here, applying bandages there, sorting through pack goods, and otherwise assisting Kotetsu any way she could. At the moment, Isane was providing Ichihime with a much-needed blood transfusion.

"Tsubaki-chan!"

"Hi, Kuukaku-sama," Tsubaki smiled nicely. "Rantao Fukutaicho called for backup. Youruichi-sama and Omaeda were busy, so they sent me."

Kuukaku smiled as she moved to cradle Momo in her arms. The girl was shivering and was having hallucinations. Isane had bound her hands with bandages so that Hinamori couldn't claw at her face, which was a slop-mess of rotting, peeling skin and oozing flesh. Hinamori looked awful; like a gaunt and deranged crackhead who has gone way too many days without a fix. It was a horrible sight to see. In Kuukaku's breast, however, Momo seemed to calm down; Kuukaku was glad that the raving patient found peace and safety there enough to settle down, even if it was only a little bit.

"What happened?" Tsubaki asked, finally soaking in everything. "This place is a warzone like I've never seen before."

"I happened!" Q stated proudly, from about twenty feet away. "I am the gift that keeps on giving! Say, I hear zombies are popular nowadays - let's do some zombies! And how about a dragon while we're at it? Dragons are _awesome!_"

The sound of his voice irritated Ichihime so much that it stirred her from her torpor, much like the hundreds of bodies that begin to dig themselves out of the ground all around them. "Goddamned fucking _troll._" Zombies are _so_ last year's fad. This bitch is going **_down._**

* * *

_**Reviews please!** Hope you all found this a satisfying continuation from last chapter's cliffhanger - curious to hear your thoughts. Next chapter: Epic awesomeness is epic. Don't worry, I won't have Q trolling forever. :)_


	53. Echoes of the Whisperkiss

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Translator's note:** "Yabei!" literally means "bad". As an expletive, it is best translated as "Oh crap!" Similarly, the word "Shimata" more or less means the same thing, although it is probably better translated as "Damn it" in the literal sense, i.e. 'curse this' (not to be confused with the expletive 'damnit' which is more devoid of meaning). I would say that 'Shimata' is a more arcane usage: for example, Ichigo typically says 'Yabei' whereas Rukia (with her samurai-era speech like 'kisama' instead of 'anata') tends to use 'Shimata'._

_**Author's note:** I would like to lay tribute in this chapter to Neil Gaiman's exceptional read, The Graveyard Book. And for those of you who haven't read "Saved For You, Kuchiki", there are spoilers here. _

* * *

_"Silenced by a whisperkiss"_  
_~ Kobayashi Miyagusima, in his poem 'Romancing the Phantom'_

* * *

_Zarina sniffled and wiped her eyes. The ache in her heart was strong. She was more or less an adult - a young one, but an adult still - but the burden placed on her shoulders was exceedingly heavy. She had known that this day was coming, but she was among the first of her friends to experience it. She supposed that Hisako, with her prideful arrogance that Zari found endearing for no explainable reason, was already prepared to accept the mantle of leadership. Hell, Hisako had been groomed for it; she would eventually become the first female Kuchiki Head of House._

_Her blond-and-purple-haired friend, however, was less than eager. As the eldest, Zarina always knew that she would inherit the Head of House title. In theory, she could pass it on to one of her brothers, but that would be shameful. Still; it was weird: being of higher social status than your own father. Regardless, that was not what illed her now._

_She gazed into the ether that hid the view beyond the gate. Few would know the truth. That was the Aristocratic Way. Zari would have to endure, somehow. It wasn't like her mother was gone forever - not really. Practically speaking, she was as good as dead, but Zari didn't want to look at that way._

_"I'll miss her, too," her father said. Urahara Kisuke's hair still hung over his eyes, and Zari subconsciously felt like he was talking to stone. It was as if her ears were filled with concrete. Nothing entered; she was too bound in ache._

_I love you, Kaasama. Keep an eye on me, okay? she thought. She already knew the answer - of course she would. Of course Shihoin Yoruichi would keep an eye on her daughter. They were close; Zari was very much her mother. Their personalities were so similar that if you were friends with one, you knew you would love the other._

_Sighing a great deep sigh, Zari adjusted the lieutenant's badge on her arm. She wasn't ready to even think about bankai. That was Kanchi - the serious one; the one who had been trying to learn bankai since before she could even walk. Zari didn't even want to go there. Her heart just wasn't in it. Yet she knew that, as Head of House, she wouldn't be allowed to remain a vice captain forever. Eventually, she was going to have to grow up and walk the path to captainhood; just like all other Heads of Houses._

_Kaasama, what am I going to do? I don't want this, she thought. I never wanted to grow up. I'm not ready for that. Why did you have to leave? Why did you have to do this?_

_I don't think I'll ever truly understand._

_~ Reflections of Shihoin Zarina, after her mother Yoruichi "retired" from captain of the 2nd division to be inducted into the Royal Guard;  
circa unavailable, as it is considered classified information by order of the Spirit King_

* * *

_"The path to Avalon is paved with the cobblestones from Hell's quarry."  
__~4th Legion Handoshi Colonel Arthur S. Tomaninyre_

* * *

"Zombies! What the... ? !" Hana stammered. "-But - but -"

"He doesn't die," Isane explained, working carefully to repair Ichihime's collarbone, shoulder blade, and upper ribs. The damage inflicted by that minotaur's monstrous club had done obscene amounts of damage. It was amazing that Ichihime had stopped the blow at all. Isane was ramping up the juice, trying to push through as fast as she could. Hinamori was stable in Shiba's bosom, and the human - if she recalled correctly, his name was Morgan, or something like that - was more or less fine. "We have no idea how to kill him. He just keeps coming back to life. Hinamori-san turned his head into turtle soup with a point-blank hado, and three minutes later he was somewhere else, sending dinosaurs after us."

"D-d-_dinosaurs_?"

"Yeah," Ichihime moaned. Isane chastised her and told her not to talk, but Ichihime ignored her. "We have to defend ourselves - "

She was cut off by a thunderous stomping that shook the earth. It was such a terrifying, shaking roar that all six of them turned their heads. Eyes wide with fear, they gazed up at something just as equally as problematic as a horde of hungry zombies.

A blast of hot, wet, humid steamy breath - tainted with the smell of raw meat and blood - rushed over their bodies. Above them was a two-hundred ton scaled dragon towering nearly a hundred feet over them. Its legs were thick and covered in sharp, prickly scales; its feet ended in talons the size of a small car. The dark green hide was spiky and plated; and its teeth were the size of stalactites. The claws gored a trench in the earth so deep that it could have fisted boulder-chunked blocks of earthen clay in a single pull.

"Ohs goddess, we's gonna _die,_" Morgan gasped.

-:-

Rukia came to; wondering whatever happened. She was badly drained; whatever kido she had just cast had sapped over half of her juice. Not even her bankai took that much anymore. She had plenty of energy left, but it been a long while since she had been so spent in battle. To her left, she saw a glowing box, with Nanao hovering over. Scrambling to her feet, she could see bodies digging their way out of the sand. Rukia didn't stop to study them, she was at Nanao's side only a few moments later.

Nanao was an absolute wreck. Her tear-stained face was covered in dirt and grime; one side of her face was red; puffy and swollen. Her hair, usually impeccably clipped up neatly, had been pulled loose. Nanao's glasses were even bent out of shape. Rukia couldn't recall a time she had ever seen Nanao so beat up. Nanao was the kind of shinigami that even the most vicious hollow ran away from - she didn't tend to come through battles with very many injuries, especially since most of her attacks were so long range. Whatever happened must have hit Nanao hard - and not just physically. Rukia could remember only one other time that Nanao had ever been so emotional - when she gave Rukia the Four Posts for her wedding - and even then she had been far more closed.

Inside the box, Hisagi and Kotetsu were recovering. If Rukia thought Nanao was a wreck, the two of them were a radioactive fallout. "Nanao-san, I - "

She couldn't even respond. Nanao's lips were quivering; something inside her was broken. As reanimating corpses began to burrow out of the ground all around them - hundreds of them, moaning and groaning a scratchy, whispy wretching sound - Rukia was disturbed by the fact that Nanao didn't seem to notice. With a fierce shove, Rukia pushed Nanao away from the containment box. "Nanao-san!" Rukia shouted at her. "I got this!"

Nanao came to; snapping out of whatever dark place she had been. With a look that bore a faint glimmer of hope, she looked to Rukia for salvation.

Rukia had none to offer, but she gave Nanao a good verbal slap instead. "I'm better at medical kido than you are," she insisted, taking over the task of repairing the reishi threads. Nanao was excellent in all areas of kido, but Rukia's medical skills were far more refined than Nanao's were, and Nanao knew it. "You have anything else to pull out? Some hado/bakudo fusion?"

"Maybe... a... bankai... I... could... finally... see...?" Hisagi groaned, a half smile forming. A gentle smile tore through Nanao's darkened mask of sorrow as the relief flooded her temples and cheekbones.

The joy in Nanao's eyes put Rukia slightly more at ease, and she allowed herself to snicker. "Or are you still going to keep that useless secret of yours?"

Nanao shook her head. "I swear, you two and your damn promises," she chuckled bitterly with a morbid smile.

"Get a move on, Neesan," Rukia ordered. "I've had enough of a day without having to worry about zombies," Rukia muttered. Zombies? I mean, really, _zombies?_ This Q fella was just asking for it.

Nanao straightened to her feet, tall and proud. Rukia looked up to her, knowing that as an equally prideful woman, there was something about having to own up to who you were; to what your bankai was. It was an interesting subconscious observation - Rukia never did know how Nanao had ever achieved bankai. Perhaps Nanao would never have achieved it until now: when it came time to put pride against self-truth, and discover that self-truth could win.

A sly smile came to Rukia's face as Nanao's gaze hardened into her confident aura of authority. Rukia knew what was coming next:

One-hundred-percent pure _badass._

Nanao pulled her mysterious golden tanto from her sleeve. This time, the bloodlust was personal. _"Sing, Saya: Convocare il nono cerchio dell'inferno - **Bankai**."_

-:-

_"Bakudo #92: Radial Blockade!"_

Kuukaku's spell locked its glass-panels into a half-dome just in time to shield the party from the blazing torch of fire that streamed down on them. The intensity of the searing jetstream nearly popped their eyes; the furnace of heat causing beads of sweat to form at the base of every strand of hair on their brow. Every single one of them thought that they were going to die.

And if that wasn't bad enough, shuffling corpses started to advance on them, each one a pyre of shambling fire unconcerned that that they were set ablaze. There must have been hundreds of them, converging upon them with dead, lifeless eye sockets as their fetid aroma carried on the wind towards the shinigami.

As soon as the scorching dragon's breath ceased, Hana Tsubaki was at it in a flicker. She omnislashed it however she could, at the very least trying to distract it. Kuukaku knew that the beast would only have to bring a giant taloned paw down on the shield, and it would crack like an eggshell underneath a sledgehammer.

Tsubaki was aiming for the eyes, and eventually she landed a hit on the left side across the dragon's cornea. It was an expert's strike, cold and precise. Enraged, the dracosaurus flailed in a thundering earthquake of stomping.

"We have to deal with that dragon!" Isane shouted over the din. She regretted it instantly - she felt something pop inside. It hurt like a bitch getting bitten by another bitch.

"How's we's gonna do that?" Morgan shouted back, wincing at a pain in his side. "I's don't thinks he's gonna givvuss upp fer summa catnip, Ma'am!"

Ichihime groaned. "Get me on my feet," she gasped in pain to Isane. I need to do something. I can't just lie down here like a wuss-wrapped pussy. "I can help," she forced out. The pain in her torso was so bad that it brought tears to her eyes.

"You're insane!" Isane shouted back down to her. "You can't move!"

"Get me to my fucking feet, Kotetsu," Ichihime ordered through spine-crunching pain. "I can do this."

_"Stay down!"_ Isane ordered. "That's a medical order!"

Ichihime tried to get up. She searched deep inside her well of reishi for an answer, searched her soul for some hidden power. But it wasn't coming. She was just going to lay there and die, whether she wanted to or not.

-:-

Rukia watched in awe as a billowing cloud of smoke burst forth from behind Nanao. The huge iron doors of purgatory - Hell's Gate - loomed over her shinigami friend. The vision was chilling: imposing, frightful, casket doors of doom staring down at them like they were nothing but specks of soul grime. The chains holding the gates stretched and strained as the massive doors began to fold outwards, creaking and groaning like mismatched cogs in a rotting clock tower. With a clankety twanging snap, the chains broke as the heavy doors burst open, smacking corpses left and right without so much as a care.

From the red miasma, Rukia saw something that she had never seen before. She had stood before the Gates of Hell on numerous occasions - enough to know that these were authentic - but she had never seen anyone ever stand on its doorstep. Behind Nanao, a massive army emerged from the swirling, glowing lines of eerie red beyond the gate. An army of beings that were clothed in sad, gray tatterered sackcloth tunic-like uniforms, every soul bearing creepy orange irises and apparitional bleach-white hair. They walked tall and proud, confident and determined, strong and fearless - but surprisingly congenial. Friendly. Engaged. As though they were kindhearted and soft-spoken comrades from a time since forgotten. Some held swords; others held hammers or daggers or spears or any other manner of weapons. One was even holding a pitchfork. Not a devil's trident - an honest-to-goodness farmer's pitchfork.

One figure - a hauntingly beautiful woman; slender, sleek, and graceful - bore a red diamond on the front of her tattered shawl-like uniform. She advanced alongside a tall, lanky, thin man with effeminate features that oddly made him look attractively masculine. As they came closer to where Nanao had been standing, Rukia saw a katana at the woman's side and a giant medieval shield across the man's back.

The silent awe of the moment was broken by that ghostly woman's voice. "Kuchiki-san?"

Startled, Rukia looked again at her; intently and deliberately. Nanao's head was turned, her eyes not visible. Rukia wondered if she knew why. "...Huh?"

"It's me," the woman said tenderly, a cheerful smile spreading broadly. "I - "

"Enough time for pleasantries later," Nanao interrupted; her voice the stern, harsh coldness of a battlefield commander. "I want this place under control first. Find Q and drag him back to the hellspawn pit of lava he belongs to."

"As you wish," the man answered, and just as realization dawned on Rukia's mind, she was off.

Was... was that Miyako-dono?

-:-

A sudden stampede of handoshi tore through the razed meadow, bashing zombie's heads in with clubs or splitting their skulls open with battle axes. Blades went through eye sockets of the living dead, and the tide began to turn.

Isane was suddenly tapped on the shoulder. Turning her face up, she was staring into nerve-twitchingly scary orange eyes underneath a wild mane of white hair. "Huh - who are you?"

The handoshi said nothing. It just nodded with a polite, friendly smile, and Isane began to witness a ring of handoshi form a defensive stance around them. The friendly one snapped a finger, and then the carnage began - the handoshi forces marched outward from their little medical ring, tearing apart the zombie horde with a methodical ferocity. It was a harrowing sight: Isane, Kuukaku, Momo, Morgan, and Ichihime witnessed these brutally efficient killers with a shiver at the nape of their necks. The handoshi were seemingly merciless, heartless slayers.

And then Momo leaped out of Kuukaku's arms, enthralled by the _danse macabre_ of blood, guts, and gore.

"Hinamori-kun! Wait!" Kuukaku called, but she wasn't able to move quickly enough. With an inhuman surge of strength, Momo dashed out of her exhausted captain's embrace, feeling a camaraderie she would never feel among the shinigami. Like a ghastly specter from the netherworld, the frenzied spiral in Momo's eyes riveted her with erotic pleasure as she plunged her Savior up a zombie's open nasal cavity.

_Oh god I love killing, I love killing, I love killing!_

Unlike the methodical clockwork martial artwork of the handoshi platoon, Momo was violent and frantic; not a machine of death but a greedy tornado of violence. The endless stream of corpses left her an insatiable stream of cackling madness; a bloody haven of death. Momo felt grimy black ooze squeeze out of another undead's punctured forehead, and then she hammer-fisted another zombie in the temple with her hilt as she pulled her katana out from its lodged location.

"Kami," Kuukaku swore, a pit of heartbreak in her chest. She's a monster.

Morgan could not hear the buxom woman's thoughts, but he was sure he could deduce them just the same. Momo's actions were not those of a cornered rodent fighting for its freedom - they were the frenetic motions of a psychotic bloodthirsty killer.

"Go after her," Isane ordered Morgan. She was still trying to treat Ichihime. "You might be able to get her back to her senses!"

"Buts what's s'bout-"

"Shiba Taicho is drained," Isane barked at him. "She can barely move, let alone run away from those things."

Kuukaku frowned as Morgan chased after Momo. "Kotetsu-"

"Stand down!" Isane barked at her. Gosh darn it, _someone_ was going to have to listen to her today. "I refuse to write _'cause of death: stupidity'_ on your death certificate!"

Kuukaku hesitatingly complied, albeit slightly humiliated. Unfortunately, Kotetsu Fukutaicho had properly assessed the situation - Kuukaku was in no shape to fight. Whatever juice she had left had been used to save them from the dragon's breath. Thankfully, Tsubaki-chan had distracted it and led it away from them for the moment. Now, a swarm of gray handoshi foot soldiers had surrounded it and were trying to drive it back from the injured, with mild success.

"Get me to my feet," wheezed Ichihime. She couldn't stand this; sitting out, crippled. Goddamn it, she needed to be doing something right now!

_"No,"_ Isane ordered. "What is it with you people? Do you think you're invincible or something?"

"I do," came a menacing voice, and if not for a sudden flicker of a diamond-clear katana, Isane would have been cleaved under Q's zanpakutou.

"You're one really sick monster," 8th Legion Sergeant Hikifune-Shiba Miyako grimaced into the lunatic's eyes. "Tonight, by order of the General - _you will dine in Hell._"

"Miko-nee!" Kuukaku gasped, shocked and relieved and then shocked some more. The white hair and orange eyes made it challenging to discern her identity by face, but it was impossible to mistake - that was Clara, Miyako's diamond zanpakutou. "You're _alive? !_"

_"Not if I can help it!"_ Q shouted at this newest nuisance, and prepared to strike again. This time, though, a searing, liver-bursting burrowing drill ripped into his mind; a jarring mental explosion that tore open like someone had taken a railroad spike through the taught skin of a snare drum. Thoughts of suicide flooded his brain, a whisper's echo that escalated until it became a banshee in his ears -_ kill yourself, kill yourself, die, die!_ - and then he took his sword and drove it through his own temple to end the pain.

Miyako watched as his body fell to the floor, vanishing into the ether - a startling sight.

Kuukaku shouted. "You've got about two minutes until he comes back to life!"

_"What?"_ the handoshi elite asked in surprise.

"Nevermind - go chase after Hinamori-kun! And then deal with that dragon!"

Ichihime interrupted, using every last bit of strength she had. "Get Isane more med help, and then _I_ can deal with the dragon!"

"Banzo-sa-"

_"Shut it!"_ Ichihime shouted. She felt a muscle in her ribs pull, and she reminded herself that she really needed to just shut up already. Her face scrunching into twisted agony. Okay, maybe that was stupid.

-:-

"Momo-san!" Morgan called after her, watching her decapitate a zombie and then stomp its free head into the ground, breaking its skull with her foot.

A whisper's echo rebounded over his ears as a gray-and-white blur passed him. It stopped a few feet from Momo, and Morgan watched in confusion as Hinamori fainted right into the demon-woman's arms. The demon-woman, who possessed a striking, charismatic, gentle-but-spectral beauty, trotted over with Momo slumped into her shoulder.

"Take her," the demon-woman instructed him tenderly, and Morgan complied, picking up the sleeping figure with a single strong arm. He held her like a small child. She weighed almost nothing.

The demon-woman then handed him Hinamori's katana, and when he held it in his hands, it surged in his veins with a coal-exhaust darkness; a black void of greed and hatred and lust. Morgan shivered at that feeling; it was so antithetical to his own moral compass. "Gawd Almighty," he swore, the pollution in his hand frightening him.

The woman looked at him knowingly, and Morgan didn't see a demon anymore. He saw the caring face of a woman; an experienced soldier, one who _knew_. One who knew what war could do to you. Her orange eyes, as otherworldly as they were, were warm; and her meek smile possessed a certain charm that Morgan recognized as an angel's in disguise. "But you already knew what you would find inside, didn't you?"

"I's - uh - I's - "

"Let me show you," the fellow soldier said, and thousands of images flooded his head. Images of a sweet, cheery kid; happy and wonderful and carefree and devoted. A sunshine of a life, bright and promising. Then he saw the face of evil - a man he unmistakably knew by the name of Aizen - who destroyed her; who erased her, who damaged her and broke her and used her like an oiled rag that he then set to burn. He then witnessed the years of recovery; bonding with a shinigami princess named Rukia and an almost-lover Izuru. His heart felt the tears of loneliness as he felt Momo's loss, watching Rukia drift away into the adulthood of marriage and its responsibilities, and then to the slap-in-the-face betrayal of her heart's last hope. He saw his own arrival through the eyes of the girl in his arms, who promised something for nothing. Then he saw the lust for power and the ambition from the sword's heart of hearts that inspired her to experiment with a dark side she never knew she had, only to find that it promised her a morally-gray adulthood that she feared she actually preferred. Then the godawful soulrape at the hands of the inhumane - a tainting that Morgan knew all too well, followed by a brief respite into recovery but then a return to the pull of Hades. The chains of Hades, the dark, grey, blanket of doomlaced despair; the cruelty born in someone who experienced far too much cruelty; a virulent stinking rot that had infested a wormy peach, leaving nothing but a tiny, small patch of its innocent, soft, fuzzy skin still in its original pristine state; the remainder of its surface surrounded by ground bones and maggotty flesh.

The moment the flood of images dissipated, Morgan fell to his knees, and with Momo still in his arm and her possessed katana in his hand, he leaned over and threw up. The wretching lasted several moments, wherein the white-haired demon defended them from a few of the shambling undead. After he regained his stomach's ability to retain its nerve, he wondered at the woman. "How's do's yoos do it? How's do's yoos look innaside anna stomach it?"

A look of intense discomfort came to her face. Morgan could tell she was trying to devise an effective means of circumlocution, but finding none. "I don't," she finally answered mournfully, "but that is the price of Hell's promise."

"What promise izzat?"

Miyako sheathed her katana momentarily and put her hand on the saint's shoulder. This was a question she would not answer. "Theodore Augustus Morgan the Fourth," she addressed him, "you can call me Miyako-dono."

"Huh?" How did she know his name? Who was she?

She ignored his confusion. "Now, you must do your part," she instructed politely and with concern. "Take Hinamori-san and keep her safe."

"But - buts - buts hows I's gonna do's that?"

Miyako gestured to the katana in his hands. "That is her soul in your hands," she explained. "Use it."

Morgan looked at the sword with almost repulsive, vile disgust. This was not his Momo-san. This was not his Hinamori; traumatized and scarred but fundamentally nice inside. This was not the soul of a girl who made him popcorn and tried to find comfort in his home. This was a monster; a devil in a blade.

Miyako had obviously been reading his mind. "Am _I_ a devil?" she asked amusingly. "I came from Hell, did I not?"

That made Morgan squirm with sudden guilt. He had been unjustly judgemental. "Huh? Uhs, no's, uh - "

She chuckled sweetly. "There are no demons and there are no angels, Theodore," she said, piercing his mind to distill the essence of his soul, knowing that she would find what she needed there. "There are just us."

Morgan couldn't take it. "...No angels and demons? I's can't buhleeve dat, Mee-yahqo-dono." The One Over All had filled His/Her universe with angels, demons, and everything in between to carry out the Will of Fate. Isn't that undeniably part of the One Truth In All?

Miyako sighed amusingly at his miserable pronunciation of her name. "Then _you_ be her angel, so that we can continue to be yours."

He was about to protest, but then he stopped. There was a truth he could feel in his soul. No; not a **t**ruth - a **T**ruth. Yes, there were angels; and yes, there were demons. Yes, there were: because they choose to be. And now it was his turn; the time had come for him to ascend. To achieve transcendence. To stop being the sinner still clinging to the Earth so that he didn't fall into Gehenna, but to be the spirit clinging to the Earth so that he didn't have to return to heaven just yet. He had a job to do. "Yes, Ma'am, I will."

"Go, Theodore. May the Great King be with you."

"Aye," he confirmed, his head filling with calm bravery and a return to the soothing cool head he kept when he knew he was about to save lives. Morgan ran back towards the other shinigami party, which was farther out from the center of the conflict. He ran with a determination to save someone precious; the sword in his hand feeling a little bit lighter.

-:-

_"Banzo-sama!"_ Nanao shouted, seeing Isane struggle to maintain the woman. She was just catching up with them now.

"...Glasses-senpai," Ichihime moaned with a mild expression of relief at her arrival.

"Are you okay?"

"Like a bucket of horse piss," Ichihime smiled. "Kotetsu here is taking good care of me."

"Like _hell_ I am! You won't stay still!" Isane muttered.

Kuukaku was helping out. Nanao looked to her, realizing that Kuukaku's own reishi levels were very low and that her healing contributions were providing minimal support. She was about to say something when Hana San Seki landed by their side. _"MOVE!"_

Nanao didn't ask questions. With a flick of her fingers, she put a bakudo platform underneath them and jettisoned them away before the flailing dragon's tail struck the ground with enough force to carve a ten-foot trench in the soft clay dirt. Nanao was getting sick of not fighting back and put her hands on Isane's and Kuukaku's cheek.

...And then she let loose her ten-thousand year old shinigami/handoshi reiatsu, bleaching her hair pure white and enveloping the entire platform in massive pumpkin-hazed sphere that extended thirty feet in all directions.

"Holy shit, that's badass," Ichihime whistled. And I thought _I_ was a pureblood, she mused. There was no way anybody but a pureblood had that kind of reishi. Glasses-senpai, who the hell are you? Maybe you really _are_ Kyouraku-ojisama's daughter...

Restoring reishi via kido is generally easy for captain-class shinigami, and Nanao was no exception. By topping off Isane (who had a far deeper capacity than Nanao had expected) and recharging Kuukaku from her own massive internal store, Nanao had improved the situation in an instant. Tsubaki fighting back at the dragon (and people thought Madarame was an exceptional third seat, Nanao wondered) and her nearly-immortal handoshi soldiers defending their perimeter from the undead. With that pressure off, the three kido masters were able to get Ichihime's wounds under control. Isane managed the bone regrowth (a 4th division specialty), Kuukaku handled internal organ repair, and Nanao took care of the standard muscle regeneration. It was slightly embarrassing to Nanao that her medical kido was so average when the rest of her talent was off the chart, but she put it out of her mind for the moment. Nanao was good at compartmentalization.

"You guys done yet?" Tsubaki called. She exploded a zombie's head in a burst of black goo with a shunko-charged fist through the head, then arrived back at their position.

"Not yet," Isane stated, focused on Ichihime's collarbone. "Soon."

"Not good enough..." Tsubaki warned, pointing up.

The women stared up and discovered a huge _'oh shit'_ moment. The dragon had surrounded them with its massive tail and long neck curled around them, their backs facing its enormous torso. One of its eyes was closed and bleeding, a clear indication of the shot that Hana had pulled off. Unfortunately, its scaly hide was far tougher, and most of Tsubaki's other strikes had been not much worse than a mosquito trying to fell a human. Nonetheless, it remembered the lithe black-haired woman with a keen eye for caution. It respected her threat.

The dragon's jaws snapped down at Tsubaki, coming down like a bullet train. With an uncanny confidence and a ferocious right hook at the 18-wheeler sized head, Hana slammed her shunko punch straight into the beast's lower jaw, enough force to knock the dragon's head off course and into the ground with a rumbling thud. Enraged, the dragon whipped its tail at them in retaliation. Isane rushed forward, and in synchronization with Ise, cast a bakudo strengthening spell in order for Isane to catch the tail bare-handed. She was lucky it was only the far end of the tail, which carried too little momentum to break her stance - but as it was, Kuukaku had to leap behind Isane and brace her with all her strength. The two _still_ skidded six inches deep into the ground.

Its jaws lunged for Hana again, who evaded and swiped at its face with her sword. She missed, but only because the dragon pulled back a bit. It cocked its head left, then right; measuring its chances to strike like a coiled cobra. Tsubaki danced to the same tune as she calculated her next counterattack - a backbladed swipe or a shunko fist. It struck center, but short, giving Hana no outs - darting left or right, it could just bat her side-to-side with the swing of its head.

Darn dragons, Hana thought to herself as she leapt upwards onto the dragon's face, grabbing a protruding scale for balance. That lunatic had to summon something with an IQ of 130? So _bothersome._

She stuck her sword behind a scale and jammed it in, just enough to pry the scale up for leverage. With the scale sticking up enough for it to catch, she hammered it with a flash punch, exploding the scale right off the dragon's scalp. It roared and bucked, hurling Tsubaki off. She landed with the grace and skill of a Covert Ops member in the center of their little camp, annoyed that she had been shaken off. Just when I got a vulnerable spot exposed, too. At the very least, Banzo-sama was better and able to breathe comfortably. "How much more time?"

"About four minutes!" Isane encouraged her. Ise had freed the 4th division colossus by pinning a Quintet of Five-Kwan Iron Pillars around the dragon's tail. It was a smart move of Nanao to do it around the tail rather than on it: if she had crushed the tail, the dragon would have been further enflared and come after them. This way, it was only an immobilizing nuisance. Isane and Kuukaku had returned to the healing process. She asked for four minutes, but Isane hoped she could do it in three and a half.

"No promises!" Tsubaki shouted as she flickered left, her sword blindingly bright as she managed to cut into the striking maw's gumline. It was an unbelievable shot, and stung the dragon badly. Now, it was pissed. Hana could tell it was going to cut loose a roar of flame right down the middle of their circle. _"Yabei - **MOVE!"**_

"There's nowhere to go!" Ise called. "Try this!" A wall of bakudo barriers enveloped them as steaming saliva began to wisp out the dragon's snout.

Angered, the scaly beast raised itself onto its hindlegs and roared a thundering boom that would have solved the constipation of even the most stopped-up of soldiers. It raised a huge forearm and closed its talons in a fist, and then its entire mile-high body came crashing down with a skyscraper-shattering blow that smashed Ise's barriers to pieces.

_"Shit,"_ Nanao swore. This is fucknuts.

"Any other ideas?" Tsubaki asked, flashing next to her. Her eyes were trained on the gathering ball of steam deep within the dragon's throat. Another flamestream was cooking in its belly, and they had limited time to stop it.

Nanao didn't want to answer that.

Tsubaki tsked. It couldn't be helped. "Kuukaku-sama?"

"What?"

"Tell Yoruichi-sama that I might not be able to babysit for a few weeks, 'kay?"

_"Wait!"_

The afterimage of Hana Tsubaki seared into Kuukaku's retina as the young woman charged into the dragon's open mouth. She may not have had one ounce of Soifon's personality, but she had every last drop of her mentor's confidence in the art of killing.

"You fucking Onmitsukido bitch," Kuukaku quietly cursed Soifon in the grave. Tsubaki-chan better make it through this, or I'm going to find your ashes and take a dump on them.

-:-

Morgan found the small archangel from before, hovering over the big blonde who had manhandled him and another shinigami man whom Morgan had recognized as the 69er. Green balls of energy surrounded her hands, and she was waving them slowly up and down the bodies in a pattern that Morgan couldn't quite discern. About a hundred feet past them, another archangel (a male, also with a white ornament in his hair) was doing more or less the same thing for Anubis. "Hey! Miss!"

The petite woman looked up at him, giving him her attention but not saying anything. As Morgan got closer, he could see that she was chanting something under her breath, so he took that as a reason that she opted not to communicate verbally.

He laid Momo down at the foot of the two others. "She's okays," he explained. "Mee-yahqo-dono poott'er ta sleep." The name caused an uninterpretable reaction on the shinigami's face, but then she hid her expression from him as she refocused her attention on the wounded. He let it go. "We's came o'er heres 'cuzzitts quieter."

Rukia nodded. Indeed, ever since Nanao went bankai - what an awesome, frightening, terrifying bankai it was - their little zone had been safely guarded by at least twenty-five of the gray-robed warriors, each of them fierce and fearless fighters. They had easily dispatched the zombies with clockwork efficiency. None of them spoke to the shinigami, but they were all polite and made friendly and encouraging gestures. Rukia wondered if they were mute. (The sudden thought brought Hikaru to mind, and Rukia refocused. She was going to make it out of this just fine, for Hikaru's sake.)

Morgan still held the psychotic katana in his hands, wondering what he should do with it. A very significant part of him wanted to abandon it. It was dangerous; it was a vicious, insatiable killer. No, worse: it was masochistically sadistic; as though it wanted to experience pain just so that it could understand how to inflict it. It was disturbing on a level that Morgan had only seen in Q before.

Yet, because he was Morgan - saint over all - he did not abandon it. To do so would be to abandon Momo-san. He couldn't accept that. She might cross into the specter of Darkland's shadow, but he wouldn't let her if he could. The katana itself buzzed in his hand, a bloating, festering hunger for blood and death and maiming. In it, though, he felt a love; a love that was pure - a shaded tinge underneath suffering and pain and sorrow. It wasn't love for him - there was some of that in there, too; but not so strong as to be so easily found - but a love born of self-acceptance; a feeling of safety, a complete lack of self-hatred or self-loathing. Whatever darkness Momo possessed in that sword of hers, at the very least, it would never reject or betray her: it would never cast her aside like so many had done. It was this discovery that strengthened Morgan's resolve, and his fist clenched round the hilt tighter and tighter until his knuckles turned white. He wasn't trained with a sword - he was a firearms guy from beginning to end - but he began to trust the weapon's ability to protect him.

I'll protect you, and you'll protect me, he thought. That's what Momo Hinamori and I believe.

For the first time - to anyone - the katana spoke in words. It was a heavy, raspy, clanking voice; a harsh female's crone that sounded like the vocal chords were made from iron chains. _I will make you a pact, Moses the Humble. I will be your Savior, if you will be mine._

Morgan smirked. He hadn't been called by that name in a very long time. Then you must follow my rules and my will. You may not succumb to sin, or I refuse.

_So be it,_ the katana answered, and the rasping voice faded.

Suddenly, in his mind's eye, Morgan saw Hinamori's face. He focused on it, and it pleaded with him - he couldn't hear the words, but he could see her begging; and he meditated on it. The rest of her tiny figure came into place, clad in a beautifully elegant miko dress - a shrine maiden's uniform - replete with large, ceremonial bells dangling from the sleeves. It was a gorgeous mix of pink and plum colors, and her visage solidified in the prophet's mind. She seemed so childlike; so innocent. A hint of purity that didn't know what to do with itself. Her face pleaded, and he could see the tears stream down her face, and then she smiled at him one last time before her face was startled, and then it bore a look of iron defiance.

He knew what was to come, and with his eyes closed he didn't even bother to open them. He knew what had startled her. "Itsa tima we's seddle diss fais ta fais, ain't it, Kwennt'n?"

Q spat at his feet in disgust. "You can rot in Soul Society, you little piss-shit. I'm going to kill you for the ages."

Eyes closed, Morgan braced his hands on Momo's Soul, and raised their Savior to defend the heart of a fallen angel in hopes that it will fly again. There is no need to see with my eyes, he reasoned, when I can see with my soul. "I's kanta say I's cumm ta clean yoos o' yer sins, Kwennt'n," Morgan smiled charmingly; still blind to the world of sight.

"I don't have any, Morgan," Q retorted. "And it's time for you to stop preaching."

Morgan breathed in and out calmly. He could feel the eyes of the wounded and the archangel princess following this exchange with tension in every fiber of their reishi. "Yes, itt izz," he answered with a curt nod. Then, with Hinamori's decades of skill in his hands and her strong proud cherubic face in his heart, he made the first swing.

-:-

Hana Tsubaki was a nobody. She had no mother. She had no father. She had no brothers. She had no sisters. She was nothing. A nobody. She didn't even exist. That was everything she had been taught from the day she had been accepted into the Onmitsukido.

A consummate student of Soifon Taicho - who respected Hana's unwavering devotion to the Onmitsukido cause and her more than ample competence - Hana Tsubaki had been groomed from the finest members of the Stealth Force. An elite of the elite, Hana Tsubaki was Soifon's handpicked favorite. She was among the very, very few who had known Soifon on a personal level.

Soifon's death had been devastating. Hana never worshiped or idolized Soifon Taicho the way Soifon grovelled before Yoruichi-sama, but Hana owed her captain and mentor a great deal of everything. Hana had become strong because she had learned from Soifon's indomitable sense of duty: the way of the Onmitsukido. Hana Tsubaki even erased parts of her own personality at times to fulfill that duty: become nothing, become less than nothing. You are nothing but an instrument of a larger system, a single tooth on a saw, a single tool to kill. If you die in the line of duty, than you must rejoice at having fulfilled your life's purpose.

Yet Hana Tsubaki wasn't your average Covert Ops elite. She didn't think it was her role in life to die in service. She didn't want that at all - Tsubaki had never had a family, and she had learned of the joy that children could bring you. She loved babysitting Hisako-chan or Zari-chan; loved watching the two of them get into mischief. She wanted to one day find her own love and have her own children. She believed that her role in life was to reconcile a verdant future with the path of shadows; to be happy in self-contradiction. She wanted to prove that love of service and love of family were not mutually exclusive. She wanted to be a woman in all its glory; to reject the notion that she was a nobody.

But now, she charged into the mouth of the dragon, knowing full well it was suicide. It was seppuku, it was hari kiri, it was fatalistic. It was a march into her own grave. She would die, so that she could save the others. She would die, because she was expendable, and they were not.

Hana Tsubaki didn't believe that because she was brainwashed or enslaved. She wasn't expendable because she was worthless. On the contrary, her blood was just as red as theirs; and she knew it and believed it. No, she was expendable for one reason and one reason only: because that was the Onmitsukido Way. It was the right and noble thing to do.

With a fearlessness of one knowing that they have nothing left to lose, Hana entered the dragon's maw. She rammed her blade into the roof of its mouth, suffering its hot, humid breath and feeling its scratchy, bumpy tongue undulate under her feet, trying to lash around and push her out. With an open-fisted punch into the pommel, she lodged the sword in even deeper; hoping to hit some vital organ.

The dragon screeched and shook its head back and forth, lashing violently in an attempt to dislodge the painful prick. Hana held fast to the hilt, using it to stablize herself; and then flash-punched the gumline around each of the upper teeth. It was a painfully sensitive area. Hot, acidic blood gurgled and sprayed inside; pumping over her in spurts. Tsubaki was persistent, and aimed a shunko kick towards the bottom front of the mouth once the tongue moved out of the way; expecting to hit a salivary gland.

It took a couple of strikes, but she guessed correctly; and the gland exploded in a sloppy mess of mucus-laden drool, coating Hana in a layer of bile, blood, and phlegm-laced spit. Still using her deeply-embedded sword as a handle, she held tight as she tried to fight against the angry dragon's tongue, which threatened to scrape her out. She punched and kicked at it, not really making good contact - at least until she could feel the steam.

Then she knew it was time for the long goodbye, as she could see the jetstream slowly build up deep down the black hollow tube of the dragon's throat. She had no time to save herself. All she had hoped was that she had bought them four minutes; enough time to get Banzo Taicho on her feet.

A quick glance at her watch have her a peaceful smile. She could die without regret: five minutes and twenty-three seconds. With harmony in her soul, she watched the fire tickle up the walls of the dragon's throat, illuminating the darkness and providing an oddly soothing warmth. Death by fire. It is just another footnote in the Onmitsukido Way.

-:-

Ichihime was on her feet, ready to fight - but the dragon had gone haywire. It was bashing its head into the ground, swinging left and right; desperately distracted by the nuisance in its mouth. Ichihime had no idea what she was going to do. At this point, the dragon's dance of madness had already led it away from them a sizable distance. Great, Ichihime thought. In the end, I didn't do jack shit. What a pussy I am, sheesh.

_"Shimata!"_ Kuukaku shouted, seizing their attention.

"What is it?" Ichihime asked, but then looked where Kuukaku was pointing. And then, of course, came out the inevitable pottymouth. "_Ksa_ with a double dose of shit," Ichihime swore as she looked up into the sky. "I can't fucking believe that fucker! Rhino balls in hot sauce, I am going to fucking _fuck_ that fucker with his motherfucking _fuck_!"

Coming upon them through the darkened gray skies was a whole storm of dragons; at least ten of them. Flying ones, three times the size of the mile-sized monstrosity they were fighting. Insanely large; each one of them a Godzilla in its own right. As they approached, the shinigami all realized how dire the situation was. This entire time, _they had been fighting an infant dragon._ One that still hadn't even grown wings. And now, Mama, Papa, and all of the brother and sister dragons were coming to rescue their little darling.

They were dragon chow.

_"Run!"_ Ise ordered. _"Find cover!"_

"No," Ichihime insisted.

"Are you _crazy?_" Nanao shouted at her, and Ichihime could see that Glasses-senpai was unhinged. Her eyes, a chilling shade of tangerine that Ichihime had never seen before; her hair, a disheveled mane of ghost-white lightning flowing from her scalp. Both were stained with tears and hysterics; something Ichihime had never seen on Senpai before. Ise was always cocky and cool. Something had happened. Something very traumatic had happened. It was clear in Senpai's voice: "We can't hope to fight those things!"

"Tch," Ichihime responded with a smirk, sass everpresent and even amplified in the face of danger. "You turning tail, Glasses Shosho?"

"You're going to die!" Nanao screamed. She couldn't believe this. She was going to get everyone killed. She was going to leave a field full of handoshi defending nothing but shinigami corpses. Nanao maybe had enough energy left to shoot down half of them from this distance, but the odds were not in her favor. She had been maintaining bankai for a long time now, with an exceptionally large army of control underneath her. She had already expended a ton of juice to recharge the others. She had plenty left - enough to still be the strongest shinigami on the field - but not enough to reliably take down a horde of angry dragons. Even if Rukia-san could go bankai to ground them, she still wouldn't be able to kill so many things of that size.

"Relax," Ichihime promised, and withdrew her tanto. "I can't tell Adame-kun that I spent the whole battle on my back," she smiled.

Kuukaku looked to Ichihime with a contrite, dour expression. "Just because my brother taught you a new trick doesn't mean you can take on that kind of assault. Those things will eat us alive. Don't be an idiot - we have to retreat!"

Ichihime's devilish grin spread so wide it practically soared over the horizon. "C'mon, Fireworks Taicho. They all say I'm a young and wreckless Head of House, right? Can't let the reputation be undeserved, can I?"

Isane protested. "Wait, Banzo-sama! You're not read-"

The 7th division captain wasn't hearing any of it. _"Bankai, Burning Oni - **Shiji Screaming Through the Glass Cannon**,"_ Ichihime invoked, and the circle burst in a ring of fire so hot even Kuukaku would have sworn her eyebrows had been singed off.

* * *

_C'mon, folks - it's review time! **Next chapter:** The battle climaxes - Ichihime's bankai, Momo's zanpakutou in Morgan's battle against Q, Tsubaki's fate in the dragon's craw, and more! How will their fates collide? There's still quite a few surprises in store - don't miss it! **Keep those reviews coming!** Thanks! -njx_


	54. Ghosts and Glass Cannons

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Author's note:** I assume readers have read Save Me, Kuchiki in this chapter. And sorry this took a while - between a new project at work and a new baby at home, I've been busy. :) [And a reminder - the Kuchiki Salvation Trilogy and Blades of Epsilon diverge from canon during the middle of the Soutaicho's fight against Aizen.]_

* * *

_"When I caught up to her, I could see her pain. She was suffering so badly. It was tragic - it manifested itself in sadism; an unconscious desire to push all that darkness out so that if the whole world felt worse than she did, she wouldn't feel like she lost as much as she did. And I could just tell; I could just tell that all she wanted was someone to tell her that she could be saved. That she hadn't sacrificed her soul yet - that she could still find it. When he spoke to me, his heart told me the obvious: that he wanted to be her hero; to give her what she had so much trouble finding - trust and comfort, and maybe even love; although I don't think he knew that himself._

_"He was hurting, too. He didn't want to see her like that; revelling in blood and dancing with death's specter. I have to tell you, it wasn't about him. It wasn't because he was scared - which he was. It wasn't that he wanted to find her so that he could have her to himself. He was far more pure than that - he just didn't want her to suffer alone. He was definitely the saint we expected, no doubt about it. So I did the obvious thing - I let them heal with each other when they needed it most._

_"Well, of course I could have just fought myself and leave them out of it, but I wanted to go out of my way to do something nice for them. Why? ...um... ah, ur - I... because... because... Uh, if you don't mind, I don't want to answer that question."_

_~Chief Sergeant Hikifine-Shiba Miyako of the 8th Handoshi Legion; explaining her actions to her superior officer, Hajimata Percival, at the debriefing session after the Battle of Kathura_

_"As if any of us could compete with that. Ugh. Hell sucks."  
__~Argimus Lethicus Haupt, Colonel of the 10th Handoshi Legion; speaking in confidence to his friend, 4th Legion Handoshi Colonel Arthur S. Tomaninyre_

_"There are many reasons that infusing a human with shinigami powers is a crime. But the most obvious is that power inspires man to believe he is all too much more than just a simple man."  
~The next captain-commander of the Gotei 13, Ukitake Jushiro, sometime in the future _

* * *

Hana Tsubaki gazed down the throat of death that would mark her grave as the blast of flame began to roar out - only to be stifled by a sharp jetstream of ice thrust down the back of the dragon's mouth.

Startled by the sudden rushing figure that seized her, she barely had enough wits to keep hold of her zanpakutou tightly enough to pull it out of the roof of the dragon's mouth. Touching down on the ground, she was relieved to be on solid earth again. "Thanks," she sighed in relief with a smile. It's nice to not have to die. "When did you get here?"

"A minute ago," Hitsugaya Toshiro answered, throwing up another Hyouryuu Senbi at the dragon's face; blinding it in blockade of ice. "I had an errand to run first."

"An errand?"

"Ah. Reinforcements," he explained, and then dashed off in a hurry.

It was then that all participants on the battlefield knew that the tide would turn as the immense, air-sucking power call riveted through the air:

_"GEEEEETSUUUGGAAAA TEEENNNNSHOOOUUUU!"_

A bankai-enabled, hollow-masked Kurosaki Ichigo cut loose an enormous band of black energy that pulsated red as it cut through the dragon's massive torso, tearing it in half. The dracosaurus was fatally wounded; its insides and life fluid gushing out like a crimson tide; soaking the hundreds of handoshi soldiers who had been trying to beat it back.

Kurosaki flickered next to them with Onmitsukido-worthy speed. "Where's Rukia?"

Tsubaki pointed off in the distance. "Healing others."

"Thanks," Ichigo nodded, and vanished like a Covert Ops leader under the cover of nightfall.

"Aw damnit," Kurosaki Karin muttered as her shunpo landed her next to Tsubaki. "Where did Ichi-nii go? - Oi, hi, Tsubaki-chan."

"Good to see you," Tsubaki smiled with a cheery wave. "Come to join the party?"

"Meh," Karin shrugged. "Toshiro-kun brought us. Somebody's gotta keep Ichi-nii from wrecking the place."

Tsubaki laughed, but then a blast of reiatsu flew past them. It felt like shards of hot broken glass and shattered crystal; clear and searing. It was intense and strong; exceedingly pure and distilled; with a taste like perfected liquor over ice. The three shinigami looked over to where Ise, Kotetsu, Shiba, and Banzo were; all of them were staring up to the sky.

"No - !" Hana gasped. _More_ dragons? _Flying_ dragons? They're _huge!_ It can't be!

"That can't be good," Karin understated.

_"Hurry!"_ Hana urged, and she guided Karin back towards the four women staring up at the oncoming storm.

-:-

_"So did you bring your zanpakutou?"_

_"Actually, I did."_

_"May I see it?"_

_For most people, this would have been an unusual question to ask. Considering that Adame's profession was the manufacture of asauchis to become zanpakutou, it was less of an intrusive matter and more of an opportunity to demonstrate that he could indeed speak on matters of his livelihood. "But of course," she replied, withdrawing Shiji and leaving it on the table._

_Adame was very careful not to touch it as he inspected it up close. Even though he did not have one of his own (he wasn't a shinigami), he knew that it was considered extremely rude to handle someone else's zanpakutou. "Brass blade, bronze crossguard, and steel shell hilt around the brass tang. Leather hilt wrappings with brown chord; seems to be sheepskin and wool. Perhaps the chord is a wool/cotton blend, I cannot tell without a magnifying glass."_

_"And what insights can you extract from your observations, O Master Blacksmith?" she teased._

_"More like Chief Tailor," he chuckled. "Let's see," he began, his brow tilted into a mock academic gesture. "A brass blade - strong, bold. Full of purpose. Focus on function over form, although still retaining an intent to show the world you are proud of what you are, the way you are."_

_"Do tell," Ichihime encouraged. "What other palm readings can you derive?"_

_"Are you mocking me, milady?" he asked in amused sarcasm._

_"Of course not, I would never dream of it," she laughed, depositing a piece of steamed edamame in her mouth._

_"Ah, very well then, onwards," he continued smoothly, his charisma capturing every corner of her attention. "A bronze guard - firm, steadfast. You will defend your beliefs and you will not let the barbs of others tilt your hand. Steel hilt shell - steel, an undifferentiated metal. A steel shell to hold the tang of your blade, to show that you prefer the world to see you as one of them rather than overfocus on your identity."_

_"My, aren't we insightful," Ichihime snickered, impressed._

_Adame took it in stride as he continued. "Thank you, Banzo-no-kimi. Sheepskin wrappings with chord, because you are an earthy person. Your head is never in the clouds. You prefer concrete over the abstract. Am I right?"_

_"Indeed you are," she smiled. "But you have forgotten the most crucial detail of all."_

_"Did I? And which is that?"_

_"Of all blades, why a tanto? Is it not customary for nobles to wield longer weapons, such as a katana or even a nodachi?"_

_"Oh, that one is easy," he said, sitting up and no longer inspecting the weapon closely. "So easy I did not even think to mention it."_

_"Is that so?" she asked, her eyes unconsciously half-closing in a subtle display of sexuality. "Pray tell, what is that?"_

_He leaned closer and whispered across the table. "It speaks of a desire to be close, to engage with another. To see for yourself, to know; to be known. You are not content to remain distant from those you meet. Your true desire, Banzo Ichihime-sama, is to feel another's soul, to love or be loved, to touch one's heart and show them your own."_

...Ichihime held her ground under the unrelenting barrage of Getsuga Tenshous. Shiba Isshashine was not going to give her one inch to move. She was stuck, shielded behind her shikai; any attempt to throw it would leave her unarmed. Cover was not an option - the moon fangs tore right through the rock in Urahara's underground training facility. She had been amazed that Shiji could survive these blasts when they could tear through mountains, but so far her shikai had held.

But not without complaining. _Hey, Hime-sama! Can't you haul your lazy ass up and out of here? This hurts!_

Shaddup, you little piss-drinker! Give me bankai and then I can get out of this mess!

_What the hell do you know about bankai?_ Shiji retorted. _Hell, what do **I** know about bankai? I'm just a dumb knife!_

Yeah, well now you're a dumb exploding boomerang! Do something, you little shit!

_Fuck you, Hime-sama! You stand under the torrent of moonslicers I'm taking, you wannabe poser!_

Who are you calling a poser, you fake demon! You're not even an Oni! You're a stupid yellow-bellied leathery chibi-gargoyle with a beak that's uglier than a toucan with a sinus infection!

_Toucans don't get sinus infections!_

YOU FUCKTARD, **GIVE ME BANKAI!**

_YOU MULE-STUBBORN ASS-DENYING POSER LOSER PRINCESS-I-DON'T-WANT-TO-BE-ANYTHING LOVE-STARVED PIECE OF MORONIC IDIOCY: **NO!**_

The next hit buckled in her hands, and Ichihime's human-sized boomerang shikai was knocked loose and Ichihime found herself getting hit with a partially-blocked GT to the face. It threw her back nearly three hundred feet and slammed her straight through a rocky spire, the mountain's compacted rock shattering into boulders as she went through it. It hurt like a steamroller had driven over her one inch at a time; but she had no choice but to react quickly. The next GT was coming at her, and if she didn't move, she was a goner. No matter how much she didn't want to move, her resolve was stronger: she couldn't learn bankai on her deathbed.

With a dextrous, agile twirl, Ichihime jack-knifed herself to her feet with a full-force handspring that brought her up in a twintail spin. Her singed braid, platinum blond and tied tightly and majestically by Yachiru's skilled fingers, swung so hard around that it whipped her in the face. It stung her pride more than her skin, but it didn't matter; as clumsy as it looked it to get smacked in the face with her own hair, her own acrobatics had nimbled her past a chain of GTs that would have otherwise carved her up.

_"Say, I... I was thinking about something lately."_

_"What?"_

_"...You know what you said about... about why I have a tanto?"_

_For a moment, Adame seemed uncharacteristically thrown off track. "Pardon?"_

_"About why I have a tanto," she explained, "instead of a katana, like most nobles."_

_Adame was a flirt, so he scrambled for a moment to recall precisely what it was that he had said; but he remembered the basic thrust of his remarks. "What about it?"_

_"...Nevermind," Ichihime dismissed, embarassed. "...Sorry, I was just thinking about it lately, that's all."_

_"Did something happen?" he asked, concerned._

_"...Lots of little things," Ichihime answered evasively. "Good things, I think... They just made me think about what you said."_

_" 'To be close; to love, and to be loved'?" Adame paraphrased himself with amusement. "Ready for a confession so soon?"_

_Ichihime snorted. "Don't let your head swell," she replied with a happy smirk. "I'll see you soon."_

...On the run now, Ichihime handsprung in rapid succession, too tired to use shunpo but too juiced up on adrenaline to not use every last acrobatic twist in her repertoire. When her momentum stalled, she landed on her feet and dove into a small ravine. It was only a second's reprieve - Shiba could either cut into the ravine's gorge with a few successive moon fangs, or simply flash into a position in which he would be gazing down the ravine's path. She suspected that he would do the latter, and on a gamble, hurled Shiji with all her might towards the opening.

Sure enough, her tactical assumptions had been correct - Shiba had opted to move towards the mouth of the tear in the rocky floor. It was her first successful attack of the evening - well, a physical one anyway. Her verbal assaults had already struck hard, but they don't really stop the Getsuga Tenshou spamming very much.

It may have been a successfully launched attack, but it didn't even come close to having any sort of payoff. With the skill of a former Royal Guard member, Kurosaki Isshin simply plucked the boomerang straight out of the air with his free hand.

The touch seared Ichihime's soul - her former fiance, the man who jilted her and left her as damaged goods, was holding her soul in his fist. It was the most intimate moment she had ever shared with him - quite possibly the only one. Dating amongst Four Houses nobles was not usually anything like the independent, unsupervised, chemistry-fueled outings she had with Adame. They were strict, emotionless business affairs about suitable matchmaking and preserving the noble line, conducted very formally under the authority of parents or House elders. She had dated Kurosaki Sr. a few times, and on those occasions they had seemed to be a good match - they had complimentary personalities (at least back then) and she had thought he was modestly handsome. Considering her own offensive appearance - something that had frightened away many suitors - she had seen herself as immensely fortunate to be arranged with someone whom she did not find sexually repulsive.

Yet, these heavily supervised occasions under her father's watchful eyes were always devoid of true connection. They were always staged. Ichihime was dressed up; bandied about in a fancy, royal kimono that was far prettier to look at than the face that sat atop it. She was told beforehand to be only the most polite and most self-effacing she could be, to present herself as the ultimate in slavishly-loyal devotion to her future husband. At the time, Ichihime had sincerely wanted to prove to Shiba Isshashine that, with all her physical repugnance, she would make an excellent wife. It was the ultimate test of personality suppression - Ichihime would never have been as submissive as those meetings would have implied; but it was her noble duty to fall in line. Make babies and satisfy said husband - including his ego and need for superiority.

Anything to make her father happy, she remembered. Anything to earn her father's approval. At that time, Banzo Tanabi had still been a half-decent man; and Ichihime had still been young and naive enough to never critically evaluate him. He had always loved and cared for his only daughter and had always wanted her to be well-taken care of. A marriage with the elitist-of-elite Shiba Head of House, sitting directly under the Spirit King's throne in the Royal Guard, was surely the best he could do for her. But Tanabi had still been an asshole, even back then - enough to make Shiba Isshashine break his promise to Tanabi's father, Banzo Jirobu, and leave Ichihime known as damaged goods to the rest of the noble class. From then on, Ichihime hated both of them; both her father and that Shiba Head of House who had been derelict in his duty. A black, caustic hatred that she only learned to let go of ten years ago when her father finally died.

Now, the man who destroyed her held her heart in his hand - he could feel everything inside her. Her fears, her loathing, her ambition, her pride, her sorrows, her joys, her confidences and her emotional weaknesses. In that hand of his - the one who could have loved her - she felt more intensely vulnerable than anything she had ever felt before.

He had _destroyed_ her. Demolished her. Broken her. Now, in his hand, he had the power to do so again.

_"To be close; to know and to be known. Your true desire, Banzo Ichihime-sama, is to feel another's soul, to love or be loved, to touch one's heart and show them your own."_ Those had been Adame's words; and at the time they had felt so insightful.

If that's the case, my precious Adame-kun, then... Then _why_? Why is my shikai a _boomerang_ - something you throw at someone from far away?

Angry, defiant tears came to Ichihime's eyes. She was trapped. Stuck in a tactical position with no outs - low ground, trapped in a ravine on both sides, staring up at the man who devastated her. With one swipe of his katana in his right hand, he could send her to sleep with her dead disgraceful father. In his left hand, he had access to every piece of information he would ever need to humiliate her, to mock her, to break her all over again. He could not just defeat her - he could _trounce_ her, _stomp_ her, _burn_ her. He now held in his hands the power to wreck her both physically and emotionally. She was a victim to him once again.

A victim once agai-

_No,_ Ichihime decided.

**_No._**

No, this cannot be.

I cannot be. This is not who I am.

_I am not a victim. I will not **be** a victim._

Her whole world turned upside down. Maybe - maybe... Maybe - - -

...Maybe Adame-kun was wrong?

To be close...

"You feel it, don't you?" Kurosaki challenged her. He could feel it, too. He could feel her vacillation in his hand. Not indecision, not confusion - realization. Realizing that everything you believe is wrong.

..._Not_ to be close. I don't wield a tanto because I want to engage, because I want to be close.

_My zanpakutou is short because it always feels like it has to fight close to home._

"Dawn rises," Shiba smirked, citing the hour outside the basement that neither of them could see. "Will you rise with it?"

The power began to well in her chest as she gazed up at her soul - a boomerang that was seized in her oppressor's hand. A boomerang flies free, but then it always comes home. It is never brave enough to leave and never come back - the fight always returns close to home. The pain is always close to home. The freedom - it is elusive. I can't ever let go.

I can't ever let go. The pain always comes back.

I need to let go.

I need to fly free.

No - even more than that.

I need to believe that the conflict doesn't need to sit inside. The fight doesn't have to be inside my head, or heart, or soul.

And then the revolutionary thought punched Ichihime in the brainstem as a burst of energy began to flow from her soulcore.

I am a shinigami, I am a princess, I am me; and none of them are first, second. I am all that I am - I am who I am. I am proud, strong, resolute - because I am all that I am, and that is all I need to be. I need to fly free.

"Almost," Isshin smiled patronizingly. It pissed Ichihime off to no end. "Almost there, girl."

The smirk came to Ichihime's face as she could feel it coming. "I'm not a girl," she whispered to herself. "I'm a woman."

_And I can love myself._

Kurosaki Isshin, secretly relieved that her inner monologue had kept her from detonating her shikai right in his face, burst into laughter and threw the boomerang back to its owner with a confident swagger. "_Now_ you're ready."

-:-

_"Bankai, Burning Oni - **Shiji Screaming Through the Glass Cannon.**"_

The circular out-bursting of the pure crystal-like reishi was so devoid of impurity that it penetrated through every figure on the battlefield like an ultrasound. Isane, Nanao, Kuukaku, Karin, and Tsubaki were immediately raptured by the platinum-haired princess. Shinigami, handoshi, and dragons far above them all stared at the awesomely powerful captain who radiated light like fire-stoked glass.

Shiba Kuukaku was beyond surprised. "Is... is... is _that_ your bankai?"

Isane blinked stupidly. "It doesn't look very much like a bankai..." she accidentally uttered out loud.

"Tch," Ichihime chortled with an amused sneer. "I wouldn't talk, Kotetsu. Pretty soon, we'll be saying the same thing about yours."

"M-m-_me_? B-b-_bankai?_" Isane stuttered. Impossible. (The materialized Itegumo, who had been standing next to her this entire time, nodded vigorously in agreement. Despite her own denial, Isane was a little peeved by his excessive enthusiasm.)

Even Nanao was puzzled. In her left hand, Banzo-sama appeared to be holding a handgun. If Kurosaki Karin had stopped to marvel, she would have described it as similar to a traditional compact stainless-steel model-1911 Sig Sauer pistol. Etched in its bright, reflective barrel was the Ancient Language, the characters sounding out the English word "Ivory". In her right hand, Banzo had another gun with similar etching (Nanao assumed it said "Ebony" but couldn't read it because the barrel was carbon black). It was larger and vaguely resembled a Heckler & Koch SP89 with a large scope attached. Someone who knew something about guns would guess that it looked like a submachine gun. To most, it would strike them as rather ugly - pug-nosed and short-stocked - yet for some reason, it looked at place in her hand. That was what confused Nanao the most - most people would never even dream of operating a submachine gun with one hand. Of course, appearances could be deceiving. Maybe it wasn't a submachine gun at all. If there was one thing Nanao knew well, it was that bankais were never easy to explain.

Ichihime raised Ivory to the sky and pointed it at the monstrous flying beast that was leading the storm. Its ferocious gaze bore down on her and it roared, its bellicose voice shuddering the earth.

_Bullseye,_ Ichihime smirked, and with perfect aim of the steel-barreled pistol, she pulled the trigger.

-:-

_"Rukia!"_

Rukia looked up to see Ichigo darting over. Her face lit up, happy to see him. He must have been worried.

"Are you okay?" Ichigo asked immediately. To him, she looked exhausted but not much worse for wear. Hisagi Shuuhei and Kotetsu Kiyone were under her medical care, and they both looked gruesomely awful by comparison. Hinamori was also on the ground, unconscious. She was covered in blood and splattered gore, but it didn't seem to be her own. The fact that no one was concerning themselves with her care led Ichigo to believe that she was probably okay. A man and a woman - both with white hair and tattered gray cloaks - were standing with their backs to them just past Hinamori; the woman seemed occupied somehow but the man did not. Had Hinamori been in danger, one of them likely would have been tending to her, he hoped. Ichigo didn't know where the rest of the reinforcements were, but at the moment, he didn't care. As long as Rukia was okay.

Rukia nodded, but didn't answer verbally. She was still reciting a medical incantation and didn't want to stop unless absolutely necessary. Hisagi-kun and Kotetsu were both on the brink of life and death - closer to the life side but not by much - and she was busy repairing soulcore damage. She couldn't afford to screw up.

Ichigo was relieved to see her. "Thank goodness you're alright. What's going on?"

The ghostly man, who was bearing an enormous medieval shield, turned to him. "We wait," Hajimata Percival answered.

"_Wait?_ But - "

Hajimata gestured to him calmly, and Ichigo turned to see two men fighting just beyond their circle. He also saw that the woman on the opposite side of Hinamori - the one who was facing the battle - was standing perfectly still, but her sword was withdrawn. It was a perfectly clear katana - the blade was made out of crystal, glass, or diamond; Ichigo guessed the latter but couldn't be sure. It looked surprisingly familiar, but Ichigo couldn't place how he recognized it. "You'll ruin her concentration," the man standing next to her said quietly, nodding over to the woman. Ichigo could only see that, from behind, her long white hair was styled in a familiar partial-pullback; but he couldn't recall where he'd seen it before.

Ichigo looked to Rukia, whose eyes were suddenly worried with some newfound realization. "What is it?"

Rukia shook her head. Just sit tight, Ichigo, she thought. What a crappy time for uncomfortable reunions.

-:-

Morgan pulled left, and Q's katana whizzed past. He dashed up and swung Momo's Soul in an unskilled crosscut; hoping to catch the opening - but Q backswung to block. For the most part, Morgan was outclassed. Q was much more proficient in swords than he was - although for the most part, Momo's Soul had promised him well. Her zanpakutou worked around his clumsiness, guiding his mind to strike or swing, when to block or parry. It was all an unconscious influence that both soothed and unnerved him at the same time. It was only when he could feel Momo inside his heart - dressed in full miko shrine maiden uniform, with her bell sleeves chiming - that he was able to focus. He could feel her swing; her shift, her footwork, her sixth sense. Through her sword, she told him what to do; he listened and served as her messenger.

A backhanded slash from Q came down hard, and Morgan struggled to avoid getting knocked back. Momo's sense guided him to twist the weight in his hips, and he did so; it gave him a subtle leverage point that allowed him to finally throw Q off. Jab, then flick, then swipe up, diagonal down, she commanded him; and as the dark pollutionary force in the cruel blade receded more and more, he began to feel a flow course through his veins.

With fluid, liquid motion, Morgan began to attack again. Cross, down, front snap kick to take the initiative; samurai slice to the shoulder, blocked by Q but a pull back and try for the other side kept Morgan at it. He felt the spirit build in his chest and Momo's bold encouragement brighten in his heart - and he began to understand.

I need you, and you need me, Momo-san.

_I... I do, Morgan. I... I do._

His sudden ability to telepathically hear her precious voice gave him a surge of wind, and Q was now on the defensive as Morgan struck with increasing speed. Q was forced to block a hard-to-avoid waist slash from an increasingly determined Morgan, and Q grimaced as he could see a light burning behind Morgan's eyes. They glowed bright as though they were backlit, the black of his pupils shining a bright glowing blue. He tried to understand: something was not right. Someone was helping him.

With a shove and another kick, Q put some space between them, and over Morgan's shoulder, Q saw the source of his trouble. That damn ghost, he swore. She's helping him! Kicking some dirt up into Morgan's face, Q dashed diagonally around him, aiming to disrupt the ghost's concentration. She's creating some sort of mindlink, Q reasoned. It's the only possible explanation.

Hajimata saw it coming, and his hand pushed the orange-haired man behind him on the chest - a signal to remind him not to interfere. Then he lunged to put his shield between the human and his Chief Sergeant. Indeed, Q's zanpakutou was aimed to cut into Miyako's face, but she was saved - not by Hajimata's iron wall of defense, though. Rather, Miyako was spared the blow by a fireball that hit Q square in the head, blowing him off of his trajectory. It was weak and no bigger than the size of a golf ball, but it packed a punch and was enough to make him miss even the Handoshi shield bearer badly. Q was knocked off balance and stumbled, falling to the ground to the left of the shield bearer, his swing wide and clumsy.

Scurrying to his feet, Q turned to the source of the flaming projectile - and then gazed at his adversary with even more intense loathing than before. A defiant Morgan held the katana at arm's length, its tip smoking. "I's hads enuff o' yoos," Morgan threatened. "Yerr quarrel's wit me, yoos punk."

Q's face scrunched in vibrant anger. _"Tobiume,"_ he grimaced. I thought I had ripped that little rotten shit straight out of that blade, he thought. Damn persistent bitch!

"Whatevva," Morgan smiled, his trademark southern charisma exaggerated on his chin. "Yoos gots ta take me down firrst, Kwennt."

"I fucking _hate_ that name, you douche bag!" Q roared, charging. He struck low, forcing Morgan to jump. He did as expected, and Q used it as a perfect opportunity to uppercut Morgan straight into the jaw, sending him reeling. Morgan landed hard on the flat of his back, knocking the wind out of him; but an unconscious signal from Momo raised Their Sword to block the strike.

Q's face was purple with fuming rage; the veins on his forehead pulsated with indignation. He kicked Morgan hard in the wrist to collapse this last line of defense, and then raised his katana in a hammerfist strike, preparing to cleave Morgan's skull open - but the sword came down against an interjected nodachi, and Q found himself staring eye-to-eye with a pissed-off white-haired brat. "Who the fuck are you, runt?"

Hitsugaya Toshiro's reishi burst out in flare so cold that it felt like a blizzard had erupted from his skin. "10th Division Captain, Hitsugaya Toshiro."

Q struggled to push down against this new adversary, but the kid was infinitely stronger then his appearance. He held Q at bay as though Q's katana was no more deadly than a piece of straw. "The Ten of Spades? You're a bitchin' _kid_? Since when do they send sixth graders as reinforcements?" he sneered.

Hitsugaya flicked Hyorinmaru hard, hurling Q off of him like he was a sack of wormy turnips. The burning disdain, anger, and ferocious violence that seared in Toshiro's eyes stared across at a defiant Q. _"Matsumoto,"_ he steeled through gritting teeth as Hyorinmaru's ice-dragon head burst forth and slammed into Q's gut. _"Hinamori!"_ he cried angrily, whipping the seized Q up in the air with his ice-dragon shikai and smashing him down into the ground like a tetherball. Q bounced with a virulent cracking sound, but managed to stand.

"You little punk," Q groaned, clutching his side with a sadistic grin.

"My _lieutenant,_" Toshiro seethed. "My _sister._ Q - _you're going to die."_

Q slowly began to laugh. Then he began to cackle. Then he was deep within a hysterical fit of maniacal laughter. "GO AHEAD! _KILL ME!"_ he shouted triumphantly. "I have died a thousand times before! I can never die! Harumia's curse will keep me on this Earth until I can become the God that does not exist!" Still cackling like a demon on angel dust, Q orbited his katana in a circular motion over his head. In front of him, a writhing, roaring chimera materialized. It had the head of a lion and the tail of a python; and the entire thing was on fire with a hide of molten lava. With a leap, Hitsugaya braced himself as the roaring beast - far faster than Hitsugaya had expected - caught him before he could shunpo to safety.

_"Hitsugaya Taicho!"_ Rukia shouted.

_"Toshiro!"_ Ichigo and Karin screamed.

Histugaya was thrown to the ground, the massive beast clawing and stomping on him. The furious jaws opened with a bellowing roar - but instead of clamping down on his head, the chimera's head twisted uncharacteristically to the left as it sensed an intruder.

_"Cascada,"_ came the deep-throated voice of Tia Hallibel, and a powerful jet of water struck the monster in its face. Seizing an opening, Toshiro took advantage of the sudden large presence of water to build a massive ice spear that pierced the chimera's throat, gurgling the roar in its mouth in with blood. Its lava-etched skin and fiery blazes began to smoke out as Hitsugaya began turning the entire beast into ice from the inside out. An Ola Azul from Hallibel struck the monster in the side, and the entire thing shattered like a icicle hit by a shotgun.

Hallibel's twang of sonido put her next to Toshiro in an instant. She helped him up. "Hitsugaya Taicho - are you alright?"

"Aye," he answered with a polite nod, but then returned a mild look of bewilderment. "What are you doing _here_?" Hallibel was not one of the reinforcements he had brought with him. (Not that her assistance wasn't appreciated.)

Tia averted her emerald eyes for a moment to steal a glance at Kurosaki Karin over in the other group of shinigami. The black-haired soul reaper was in rapt attention at one of the other shinigami captains fighting a pack of dragons in the sky. _Demeaning myself,_ she thought honestly, but never would have voiced such. Tia returned her eyes to Hitsugaya instead. "...It has been many years since I have been permitted to taste human flesh," she answered, knowing full well that Hitsugaya would never buy such a ludicrous explanation from her but that he wouldn't challenge it nonetheless. "Is that him?" she asked, pointing to Q.

" _'The Third Gargoyle from Darkland',_ Tia Hallibel." Q challenged, quoting the NATA's deck-of-cards handbook. "Nice tits."

"Petty stain of human filth," Tia snarled, and reached for her zipper. Had Toshiro not stayed her hand, Tia would have revealed her shark jaws and clamped them over the rotten human's head - but she respected Hitsugaya's request. She made her intentions known nonetheless. "I will deliver you to oblivion."

Q pointed a finger at Hitsugaya and Hallibel, laughing with open mockery. "_You?_ You think you can kill me? You may be the King of Hueco Mundo, Titties, but I am God! I am the almighty God you and they all believe in! There is no other god but me! There is only the power to create and to destroy, the power to build and wreck worlds, the power that others do not possess! I possess more power in my soul than anything you have ever dreamed of! GO AHEAD! _KILL GOD! I DARE YOU!_ KILL THIS GOD OF YOURS - _SEE IF YOU CAN!"_

A frozen passion burned on Toshiro's still face. Tia's eyes bore a malice that could not be matched, but she held her position; studying her opponent with the sharp predatory skill of a trained hunter.

_"OF COURSE YOU WON'T! YOU CANNOT KILL GOD! YOU CAN NEVER KILL ME-"_

But then a tap on Q's shoulder caught his attention, and when he turned his face, he realized that he had been lost in his own monologue. Hitsugaya was a diversion - and now, he regretted his own soliloquy because he could see that bastard Morgan, with the mindlinked glow of that bitch Hinamori in his furious eyes, with that damn fucking Tobiume. The shame of taking a blow from Morgan was far more painful than the blow itself.

" _'An eye for an eye'_," Morgan quoted - and put Momo's Glory of the Rising Sun straight through Q's pupil.

Q screamed in agony, the roaring pain of this _new_ zanpakutou - something that was most definitely different from the Tobiume he had dissected. It threw into his mind all of the suffering he had committed against Hinamori. He could feel the pain, the anguish, the despair, the despondency - it momentarily paralyzed him as surely as the physical pain did.

**_"NOW!"_** Hitsugaya ordered, shouting over to Kurosaki. On cue, Ichigo handed his massive sword to his wife.

Rukia jammed Sode no Shirayuki and Zangetsu into the ground, and then quickly bound their ribbons around the hilts three times before seizing each one in hand. Ichigo went behind her and embraced her, gingerly wrapping his arms around her petite frame, knowing what was coming next as the two of them watched a frantic Q flail about with a sword deeply embedded in his skull.

Her voice could have cracked marble as Rukia's eyes turned a rainbow chemistry of flaring color. _"Black Sun, White Moon, Gray Heaven, Mask and Wing - **Zotokai.**"_

-:-

The sound of Ichihime's pistol didn't burst like a gunshot; it chimed like the musical strike of a silver spoon against an empty wine glass as it emitted a burst of light. To Nanao, it seemed rather anticlimactic - until she saw the shot hit the dragon leading the pack, which was still pretty far away. That was when Nanao realized that Banzo Ichihime's bankai was possibly the most destructive force she had ever witnessed - her own kido included.

The instant the light ray hit the dragon, the entire being turned to living, breathing, moving glass. When Ichihime switched firearms, the next shot - a more familiar, tried-and-true incendiary round - hit the crystal wyvern like the proverbial bull in a china shop.

The enormous being - it had to be at least three miles long - shattered into nearly two-hundred-thousand tons of glass shards and crystal dust, spraying the rest of the storm with jagged bits of glass in their eyes, sending long slivers into their scaly hides, and causing them to roar in frustration. They instantly scattered - with their leader obliterated, they dispersed rather than fall prey to the same attack. Many of their wings had suffered nasty shredding, and they strained to fly straight or even at all.

"Hell no, you don't, you vainglorious bastards!" Ichihime shouted with amusement. Flickering into the sky on flit-footed shunpo, Ichihime cast about with her pistol; turning the enormous lizards into glass. Like a spinning top, Ichihime twirled with guns blazing out each side, perpendicular to her body. As she turned, the dragons who met Shiji's Ivory Glass Canon soon found themselves in the crosshairs of Shiji's Ebony Burning Oni. The sky tinkled with glass destruction as the pack of demonic lizards were safely detonated far out enough from the battlefield so that the rain of glass couldn't injure her allies.

Ichihime touched down to a slack-jawed crowd. "So, what else we got?" she asked snarkily.

-:-

The sonic reiatsu - not a force of power, not a tangible blast of energy, but more like a powerful radio wave that sliced through everything around them - caught the attention of every combatant on this edge of the battlefield, the handoshi included.

Ichigo was letting his reishi flow freely into Rukia - he had only done this once before, and the last time it happened, he remembered that she had needed everything he could give her. The energy bubbling up between them was so powerful that it literally began to split visible light; the particles bending and weaving until the only visible burst of energy was waves of bright, psychedalic color flowing forth in a prismatic luster. Beams of kaleidoscopic indigo, red, green, orange, blue, yellow, and silver jammed Ichigo's eyes with a fury of every dreamable shade. Tangible ribbons of color curled off of Rukia in a shimmering dance of many colors. Rukia's normally raven hair - her silken midnight black hair - was glowing in vivid, explosive chromatic color.

A portal to another world of swirling chaos opened, and out emerged Dikita Kuranaya, Guardian of Mask and Wing. His sullen-but-noble gray uniform, the same shade as chains and muted steel, hung around his lean muscled frame. The glowing red eyes behind the square-cut slate mask spoke of a being of power that was not to be trifled with.

Instinctively, Dikita Kuranaya knew why he had been summoned, and immediately withdrew his two swords of Night and Day. One black, the other white; he shot forth, gliding on his wings; one of an angel and the other of a demon. With the speed of a comet and the strength of a thousand bulldozers, his swords found their target:

Q's zanpakutou.

Night and Day cleaved through the blade, disintegrating it into a cloud of ionic dust. The squelching roar of the demon blade Shishi-O could be heard dying; the alien call of Astryx could be heard shrieking, but the undying omega blade, Genesis, was now simply unleashed from its corporeal prison. She took form in the face of an ancient cherub, ghostly materializing over a frantic Q; who was still clutching at his face and screaming, trying to remove Momo's zanpakutou so that he could regenerate.

Kuranaya-zoto spoke. _"Come."_

Genesis shook her head. "I am still bound."

The otherworldly soldier of misfortune sheathed his swords. "Then return to your rightful master."

With a pontificating smile, Genesis looked to the gate of swirling chaos. "Bound is bound, Kuranaya-zoto. Yet Toki-sama awaits, I suppose."

"Aye," the slate-masked zotokai answered. "Then go."

"Free me from this curse," Genesis requested. "I am not of your ilk. I am only supposed to serve one master at a time."

Kuranaya's answer was dismissive in words but evasive in tone. "You are not my zanpakutou, Genesis, and therefore your request is not within my scope of concerns."

Genesis smiled coyly. "So be it."

With that, Genesis vanished in a twisting wisp of steam, leaving the flailing Q underneath her alone and with nothing but his face that was not regenerating properly because of the foreign object's interference.

Gazing upon the destruction around him, Kuranaya's glowing eyes eventually focused on his summoner. He flew before her, and saw that she was drained; collapsed upon her swords - Sode no Shirayuki and Zangetsu, the child sword of soul infusion. Zangetsu's owner was there as well; he was clutching Kuranaya's summoner and keeping her from falling over in exhaustion.

"Kuchisaki Rukigo," his deep voice intoned grandly as he placed each of his gray-pallored hands upon their heads. _"Restore,"_ he incanted, and in a snap of green, he renewed Kuchisaki Rukigo to full health and filled their reishi to maximum capacity.

Feeling fit as ever, Rukia stood up and looked at the being's mask, barely able to meet its penetrating stare. Behind that slate mask was Shiba Kaien's face - and to be fair, her husband Kurosaki Ichigo's face - but unlike long ago, she no longer felt a compelling need to see it. If Kuranaya-zoto deemed it necessary, he would remove his mask; and if not, Rukia felt no need to ask him to do so. "_Arigato_, Kuranaya-zoto."

The being of unspeakable power cast his arms wide open around them. "This is not your desire."

"No," Rukia answered.

"Then I shall do what I can," he stated, and then let his hands drop to his side.

-:-

While Hitsugaya and Hallibel's eyes remained glued to their opponent, Nanao, Ichihime, Isane, Karin, Tsubaki, and Kuukaku marveled.

Kiyone and Hisagi, suddenly awake and feeling as though they had just come from an excessively aggressive massage, sat up and gazed into the sky with wonder. They ached all over and were horribly stiff, but they were intact and whole.

Komamura Saijin sniffed the fresh aroma of clean, earthy soil; with grass and trees and all that Fate created in and around it, and opened his eyes to see a stunned Kuchiki Byakuya ending a healing spell above him. Both were sore and exhausted, but alive.

Hajimata Percival's hand found purchase on Miyako-dono's shoulder, and she opened her eyes; severing the telepathic channel she had used to fuse Morgan and Hinamori's consciousness. The sight took her breath away.

Hinamori's eyes opened, her heart overflowing with triumph and victory - only to be diverted by the shock of seeing the unexpected.

Even Rukia and Ichigo could not believe what they had seen.

The rural cornfields of upstate New York were all around them in the grassy meadow. The sky - bright blue and flawless - glinted with a wholesome sun of light and warmth and hope. Morgan's house, intact and seemingly wearing a new coat of paint, stood not too far off in the distance. There were no smoldering fires, no corroded vehicles, no sulfuric craters, no belch-puke-piles-of-rotten-pus-stains left from Kathura's vile rampage. No dragon carcass, no roasted flesh-eating insects, no dinosaur corpses, no shambling zombies or their remains.

It was almost as if the conflict had never occurred. The only remnant of the battle was the Soutaicho's corpse; a charred scrap pile of bones that was the only testament to the utter destruction they had witnessed. That, and a frantic Q still clutching at the sword in his face.

"Kuchisaki Rukigo," Kuranaya said one last time. With the grace of a phantasmal being, he glided over to the portal he had come from, and returned to the Void of Unknown Unknowns.

The peaceful tranquility of the awe-catching moment was broken as Q finally let out a gut-curdling scream. With a final painful pull, he finished dislodging Hinamori's bloody zanpakutou from his bloody face. With a one-eyed glare glare of absolute hatred, Q looked to Hitsugaya with rage and arrogance as the flesh around his carved-out eye began to tingle and twitch, slowly regenerating and closing the hole that went out the back of his head. "See? See! _SEE!_ YOU CANNOT KILL ME! I WILL COME BACK! I ALWAYS COME BACK, MORGAN! I ALWAYS COME BACK TO FIND YOU! I AM THE ESSENCE OF IMMORTALITY! YOU CAN NEVER KILL ME!"

"I can't," Toshiro said flatly. "But _he_ can."

-:-

_"So that's why Q was afraid of Smith," Hitsugaya realized, voicing his thoughts out loud in his Chilean-accented Ukranian. "It's why he never went out of line in Smith's operation."_

_"Exactly," Johnson explained._

Q's gaze turned behind him, and he swore. **_"NOOOOOOO!"_**

Ishida Uryuu didn't waste words. Hitsugaya Toshiro had fetched him all the way here from Tokyo for one purpose, and he wasn't going to waste time fulfilling it: Ishida put a full-powered, maximum-strength Quincy arrow right into Q's chest, straight through the soulcore.

"AAAAAUUUGGGHH!" Q screamed, his voice wailing in horrid agony and despair.

"That was why you never rebelled against John Smith and the NATA, Quigley Quentin Yuim. You knew he was a Quincy," Hitsugaya explained. Q's body began dust away in melting ash. "That he could permanently erase you; remove you from the cycle of souls. That if you ever pissed off Smith enough, that he would end you; and that you would never have another chance to reincarnate. That you could never try and find Haru or Saint Humble ever again."

Morgan reached for Momo and held her tight. He didn't want her to lose herself; to flail out and be a part of this. The deed had been done - he didn't want her to sacrifice the humanity she had just earned to put the finishing blow on a dead man. She had already contributed her part to his end.

Momo whispered his name, in shock and disbelief - a quiet, pleading "Morgan" - but held to his embrace, comforted by it. She did not succumb to the call of murder this time; did not even feel its gravity. Instead, she held him fast; held him and hoped and dreamed that this was really, truly, _finally_ over. Even as she saw his body begin to disintegrate into powder, she still would not believe it until she had seen him breathe his last breath.

_"MOORRGGGAAANNN! SUCK MY COCK, YOU GODDAMN SANCTIMONIOUS PRICK - AND YOUR LITTLE BITCH, TOO!"_

"Goodbye, Q," Toshiro scoffed, and Ishida shot Q through the head to silence him. Q collapsed, never to threaten another life ever again. Toshiro huffed as the last remnants of the body began to crumble and crack into powdery ash that floated away on the wind. "No one cares about what you have to say anyway."

* * *

___I hope this chapter was worth the wait. _Hopefully, the next chapter won't take as long to get out. **Please don't forget to leave some reviews!** Thanks! -njx


	55. The Aftermath of Awkward Reunions

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. **  
**

**_Author's note: _**_In case you don't remember, this story takes place ten years after the events in "Saved For You, Kuchiki". It also makes a reference to Ch14 of "Save Me, Kuchiki"._

_**Translator's note:** 'Urusai' generally means 'shut up'._

* * *

___"The first thing you learn when you can raise the dead is that you're better off not doing it."  
~ Haru-Isuzu Mia; to Kuchiki Rukia at Kathura Battle_

_"Even I can be phenomenally stupid sometimes."  
__~ Kuchiki Rukia, to her son Sado; teaching him about how it's normal and natural to make mistakes_

* * *

_Banzo Tanabi breathed a sigh of relief. It was finally the Sabbath - the one day a week that he was given a reprieve from active torment. One day a week that he was free to contemplate his wrongdoings and his many sins, to pray for Yohana's soul (wherever it might be), to pray for his daughter's success and forgiveness._

_He was one of the lucky ones. In his lifetime, he had committed gross violations of personal conduct. He had broken the sins of lust and wrath with great zeal, not to mention greed, envy and pride. Yet Hell had judged him fairly - he had committed many sins but he had also suffered badly in his lifetime; and despite his poor choices and unjust behavior, he had many merits to his name comparative to his fellow sinners. He loved a wife that no one ever could have dreamed he could love, and despite his intense desires, he had always been faithful to her. He earnestly tried to do the best he could for his daughter, despite that he had meager skills in fatherhood. For all his greed and pride and envy and insatiable wrath, his intentions had always been to be the family man, despite his significant failures in so many aspects of that role. As such, his good deeds had been rewarded in his afterlife with the right to rest on the Sabbath._

_He sat on the stone bench, free from the pains of fires and needles, and received his Sabbath meal. It was the only time of the week he was given food. It was plain - water with black bread, and a small morsel of meat - but that was far, far better than many others, whose weekly meal consisted of nothing but a sip of brown water and moldy potato peels. The man two seats down from him - Tanabi believed his name was Jonas - was not even given a Sabbath reprieve. Even as he sat, half of his flesh roasted with fire; the other half was eaten alive by locusts and small rodents. He could not even scream, as every time his mouth widened, it was spontaneously filled with steaming horse feces._

_"Sir," Tanabi asked of his supervisor. Their handoshi supervisor was not a member with rank, and as such did not have permission to speak to him, but Tanabi respected him anyway. It did not take long for Hell's Sufferers to realize that nearly every servant of hell was incomparably righteous. These were people who were so just and so good in their lifetimes that only they had the proper moral authority to inflict such pain on sinners like him. They had to be respected at all times, no matter what. This particular supervisor's name was Flaggenhaul Skavayeski Denonovitch. For obvious reasons, all of the sufferers just called him Sir. "Thank you for the meal."_

_The handoshi nodded graciously, and Tanabi began to eat, hoping that his beloved daughter Ichihime had opened her heart enough to give him the slightest bit of forgiveness. He hoped with all of his being that she had learned from his mistakes and failures. He did not want her to know of this place._

_~The current existence of Banzo Tanabi, suffering somewhere in the bowels of Hell _

* * *

_Hisako stole a glance at Kohei across the table. As usual, Kohei was boorish; wearing a sneer mixed with a pugnacious scowl to further suit his messy flop of hair. It was dirty, matted, and disgusting - an attempt to make dreadlocks in hair that was simply too fine and too short. His uniform was caked with dirt, grime, hollow scuzz, and most likely blood (never his own); although his odor of dark beer with sweat was the more offensive of the two._

_Inexcusable cur, Hisako thought to herself. Such disrespect of decorum for the lieutenant's meeting._

_Kohei caught Hisako by the eye, and swiftly sat up straight, ran a hand through his unruly hair, and tried to ply his facial expression into something that could almost be called respectable. His preening efforts, as usual, were not lost on Hisako._

_Hisako quickly broke the eye contact with an aloof upwards twist of her nose. The disgust was, no doubt, a jab at his effort. Technically, he was her 'cousin' - a term Hisako did not appreciate, as it implied she shared blood with the vile brute. Nonetheless, she would not sacrifice her social standing to even be seen as tolerating such a goony vulgarian._

_As she broke contact to turn up her nose at him, her heart sighed melancholy as she pretended to focus her attention to Hikifune Yoshino's impassioned concern. It was over some training regimen that the 3rd was suggesting replace the 9th division's current routine. As usual, Kanchi-dono and Yoshino-dono were in some proxy sibling rivalry battle for their respective captains; Hisako's Rukia-obasama and her childhood 'brother'-of-sorts, Abarai Taicho. Hisako rarely paid attention them anymore; they took too much of their sparring practice to the lieutenant's meetings. She would read the meeting minutes for the abbreviated version._

_No; her attention was not focused on these trivialities at all. She was off in her own world of morose gloominess; wondering why of all people that it had to be Hisagi Kohei who was so doggedly forthcoming about his affections. If only it had been someone worthwhile who would chase her with such determination - a Shihoin, a Kyouraku, perhaps a Nikayui or even a Ryogi - then she would not be so lonely. Hisako was vain but not foolishly so - she was well aware that she was graciously beautiful, to the point where most were envious. (Even her boyish cousin Hikaru-san, who was not even aware of the envy she carried, coveted Hisako's looks.) Yet, despite this, only that... that... that loathsome barbarian would even consider courting her. It was the stinging bite that struck the already dull, spreading ache - what luck she should have to endure his endless display of vaunting swagger._

_Curses, she thought. She had been practicing her caligraphy while the 1st division lieutenant, Hitamake Hanzo-san, went through a checklist with Hitsugaya Makahiro-san, the limpid, emotionally handicapped lieutenant of the 8th. Kohei's invasive stare had caused her to misalign the strokes of her brush, and her fine work had been rendered to nothing above a peasant's amateurish attempt at art. Bitter and annoyed, she stared across to the 10th division vice captain, Banzo Vojiro-dono, who as usual, was sitting alongside Hikaru-san. She hoped that he would catch her stare, but he did not._

_Hisako receded to her loneliness. She would ask Tousama and Kaasama this evening to see if they had found any other potential suitors, if only to help her escape the tormenting vice captain's meetings._

_~ Thoughts of the Head Lieutenant, approximately two centuries from now _

* * *

_"I don't understand - why would someone want to kill me? I'm a nobody!"_

_"You may think that," Sora answered. "But if you carry that badge, than you are certainly not a nobody. Let me guess, you can probably break concrete with your bare hands, right?"_

_Tamani looked at him with a mixture of shock and bewilderment. She had been studying martial arts since she was four; her family owned a dojo that had been passed down since her great-great-great-grandmother's time, almost two centuries now. She was a third-degree black belt despite her age; she had been able to break concrete blocks with the palm of her hand since her fourteenth birthday. It was simply a mastery of chi that gave her this ability; extreme focus and skill. Even still, how could he have known this? "How -"_

_"You can feel the 'flow', the 'Force', the 'ki', or whatever it is you call it, correct?"_

_How did he -_

_"It's called reishi," Sora corrected her. "Spirit energy. I can tell. You've definitely got at least two amplicores - twice as much as the average person - and if that's how much you have now, it will probably increase as time goes on. It's amazing that you've never seen hollows before."_

_Tamani wondered if that was even true. Many times, she thought she had seen things that should never have existed. Things she could never explain. Things that very much matched the description of these 'hollows' that this strange young man had told her about. "How do you know this?"_

_His face suddenly shifted to distracted caution, as though something startled him. "Like I said earlier, I'll explain everything - but now, we have to move."_

_"Wait - why?"_

_Sora grabbed the dark-haired beauty by the arm. It was lean and hard - he could tell she would be a good ally in a fight. "He's here," he said quietly as he began to pull her through the terminal._

_"Who?"_

_"Jonas," Sora answered. Goddamn rabid thing. Hell wasn't enough to straighten him out yet? Damn him._

_~Tabaki Tamani (great-great-great-granddaughter of Arisawa Tatsuki) getting sucked into the mission of Ishida Sora (great-great-great-grandson of Ishida Uryu and Inoue Orihime)_

* * *

The finality of the moment, the vanquishing of Q, left a still silence along the rural zone of upstate New York. Many were still shocked to have witnessed the unfathomable power that had been unleashed upon the battlefield - the effluvient ichor of Kathura compounded into nothing; the roars of dragons silenced; the corpses of the living dead vanished. Vicious hunters of the jurassic age and the terror of flesh-melting wasps; the trauma was still resident. The sudden bright open sky, the chirping birds, the soothing breeze that settled over the swaying grass - it was surreal and unexpected. Each of the many victims of battle were momentarily halted, trying to absorb all that had transpired - much of which had been inexplicably undone by the mythical zotokai.

And then all Hell broke loose.

"Oh my _God_," Kiyone gasped, realizing it for the first time. Looking upon the shocked and stunted disbelieving face of Shiba Kuukaku, who had recently flashed over to their vicinity, Kiyone's suspicions were confirmed as the white-haired visage seared her retinas with a longing and yearning for the truth. "...Miyako-dono?" she whispered, not willing to believe it. "Is... is - is that _you_?" Have you come back from the dead? God, tell me that my eyes aren't lying to me. If the hair were black and the eyes were dark brown - if... if... Could it be? Is that really Shiba Miyako? Oh God - I ached so much when she died - dear God -

At the mention of her name, the Handoshi Goddess turned her head to see someone she didn't seem to recognize, yet the voice seemed so familiar. "...Who - "

The eyes, creepy and orange, did not deter Kiyone. "_Oh my God,"_ Kiyone began to bawl, running and charging and crashing into the ghost's feet, almost knocking her over. "Miyako-dono!" she sobbed; her eyes and throat a burning mess of happiness and sadness and confusion. "Oh _God_, oh _God_," she cried. "It's me," she gasped, choking on air like there was none left of it in all the universe, "Kotetsu Kiyone."

Miyako's eyes lit up. By the Great King of Hell, when did you get so freakishly _tall_? You were just a little pisher twenty-five years ago! "...Kotetsu-san...?"

"Oh my _God_, you're _alive_!" Kiyone sobbed, her words barely intelligble through the bawling.

Hajimata Percival looked to his liegelord. Saya-sama, _er,_ Nanao-sama, was not happy. Glances from Saya-sama gave him a clear indication of the fact that she knew exactly how messy this was going to be. He also knew that there was nothing she could do. There was no escaping the revelation. He himself remembered how Saya-sama herself had reacted when she discovered that Miyako had been taken for Hell's service - it had been quite a lot to absorb. And that was without the trauma that everyone here had just survived through. It was not all that much of a surprise the blond colossus had turned into a gibbering wreck at his sergeant's feet. Hajimata had seen much more dramatic breakdowns many times before.

Byakuya was the one to save face for the crowd at large. "Ise Shosho," he interrupted. "I will report to Soul Society."

The heavy statement fell upon the shinigami, humans, quincy, and arrancar still trying to wrap their heads around the aftermath. Renji was the first to agree, knowing that this was only going to spiral downwards from here. "Hisagi Fukutaicho, come back with us." He knew Shuuhei wanted to stay and question Nanao all about what had been revealed, but an authoritarian glance made sure that Hisagi wouldn't argue. A command was a command.

Shuuhei wanted to protest, but a pained look from Nanao told him that now was not the time. She would explain later. He accepted it begrudgingly, and followed Abarai Taicho and Kuchiki Oujitaicho. Komamura needed no suggestion, he was wise enough to know that this was not where he should be; and so he followed without comment.

Hitsugaya nudged Banzo, who was still in bankai. "Go home," he ordered quietly.

Ichihime was not interested in going home right now. This had been the most insane battle she had ever witnessed. As Head of House, she had long ago since memorized the tale that spoke of zotokai, and she knew that Kuchiki-senpai had summoned it once before; but she never thought she would actually see and experience a being of that awe-rattling power. And if _that_ wasn't enough, to see the Gates of Hell opened up and hundreds of white-haired soldiers pour out of it? _Unbelievable_. Save for her pumpkin eyes, Ise-senpai looked like her head had been dumped in a vat of bleach; Hisagi's new bankai was out on display; and she herself fought off an entire pack of fucking _giant flying lizards._ And now she was being told to go _home?_ When the King of Hueco Mundo - an _arrancar, _for Kami's sake - was still here, _helping _them? What, are you fucking _kidding_ me? Someone has to explain all of this shit!

"Come," Byakuya reiterated as he passed by.

Ichihime debated protesting, but it was Renji who forced her to capitulate. "Someone's waiting for you at home," Renji added with a serious glance.

It almost broke her heart. Ichihime could see the pain in his voice. It had hurt him to say that to her, and as much as she knew that Renji never could have been Adame, she still felt bad for leaving him so unhappy. She was not willing to break his spirit again by fighting his suggestion. Sighing in exasperation, she let her guns fade back to Shiji's tanto form, and slid it into the lustrous sheath along her back. She waited for Renji and Byakuya to pass by her enough so that she had some space, and then turned to follow.

Hallibel, whose presence was already awkward, looked to Hitsugaya Taicho for some sort of direction. He caught her glance, but then Tia caught Karin's eyes; in haste she turned away. She felt immensely stupid. The King of Hueco Mundo was no stranger to sacrifice, but she had not expected to offer up her dignity on the altar. It was too late for that - she may have contributed to their victory, but she had ultimately arrived to do a subordinate's task. The King need not be present to be a run-of-the-mill heroine; especially not in the presence of so many capable warriors. She wondered if the opportunity to see an old friend had been worth it. (She suspected it hadn't.)

Not wanting to be perceived as rude, she figured she should at least say something before she left. Hallibel's deep, throaty voice was abrupt and terse, yet respectful and collegial. "Hitsugaya Taicho," she addressed him. "It is good to draw swords alongside you, rather than against you."

"Aye; Espada Hallibel," Toshiro nodded in agreement. After Hallibel departed via Garganta, he took Karin's hand and began to pull her to the senkai gate. Karin squeezed his hand back, unsure of what had just transpired but nonetheless comforted by his touch. Hana Tsubaki followed after them, gesturing to Ishida to come with them.

The handoshi soldiers saw that they were departing, and formed two rows along each side in a military honor guard. As the shinigami group departed, the handoshi made friendly gestures and overtures, bowing politely and giving cheerful nods of heads, smiling or even waving demurely; although none of them spoke or said anything. Ichihime thought they seemed like pretty nice people, considering that they all came from Hell.

Isane was equally confused but took the cue easily enough. "I'll, uh, help the wounded get to the 4th," she said, knowing full well that none of those departing were in such bad shape anymore. She followed after Hitsugaya Taicho's small group. Boy, was she going to have stories to tell Hanataro.

Morgan, with Momo in his arms and her Soul's Blade still in his hand, remained still and studied what appeared to be a surprise reunion. The female with the blue haori stood off at the edge of the clearing, with the tall lanky male ghost approaching her side. The other female ghost was immobilized, with the blonde colossus still at her feet. Momo's boss was still there, along with the super-short archangel and her orange-headed companion. The weight of reishi in the air was so thick that he couldn't even focus on the fact that he had finally managed to permanently eradicate Q; he couldn't even think at all. His only relief was that none of them bothered him anymore; they let him hold Momo and comfort her. He could feel her shaking and quivering in his arms, tiny exhales of anxiety shedding layer by layer. Her sword radiated in his hand, pulsating with sunlight along its sharp titanium edge. Nothing could hurt him now, but more importantly, nothing could hurt _her_ anymore. His Goddess Hinamori was safe. Ever the religious man, his eyes closed and he held her tight, offering up a prayer. Today, at least for the moment, I am free. Thank you, God, for all that You have allowed me to do in Your Name.

-:-

Kuukaku's lip quivered and shook as the rivulets of tears streamed down her face. It was impossible to believe, but Kuukaku had seen that diamond-bladed katana up close. Even if there was someone else with a sword like that - no, it was just impossible. It had to be. It had to be her. "Miyako...san?"

"Kuu-chan," Miyako smiled weakly, unable to hold her balance properly as she had a six-foot-tall woman bawling around her feet.

The one-armed woman was in complete denial. "Miyako...san?"

"Kuu-chan," she repeated.

And then Kuukaku fell to her knees, tears streaming, soul utterly exhausted. "Miko-san... how... what...?"

Admittedly frustrated with her inability to stand in a dignified fashion, Miyako finally put one hand on Clara's hilt and another on Kotetsu's head. _"Sleep,"_ she whispered, and Kotetsu fell into slumber like she had a bad case of narcolepsy. However much disbelief she had before, Miyako was now positive that this woman was Kiyone. No one else could have ever matched such ridiculously persistent admiration. Miyako had always been fond of Kiyone, but this was a bit much.

Stepping out of Kiyone's sleeping limbs, Miyako made her way slowly to her sister-in-law, and knelt down before her. She let a somber smile and a tear penetrate her Hell-hardened face. "You're wearing a haori again," she chimed meekly. It wasn't the most sensitive of ice-breakers, but Miyako was proud that her sister-in-law had rejoined the Gotei 13.

Kuukaku had no words. None at all. She just collapsed on top of the handoshi sergeant and cried tears of longing joy and sadness. What she would tell Hisako, she had no idea.

-:-

Ichigo pulled Zangetsu from the earth beside its partner, Sode no Shirayuki. Rukia, though, seemed preoccupied; almost anxious. She was slow to return her katana to its sheath. "Rukia, are you okay?"

Her eyes were unfocused, distant. "...I'm fine."

Like hell you are, Ichigo thought. "What's wrong?"

"...Nothing," Rukia lied, her eyes downcast. She refused to look at anything but the earth and its verdant clay. Anything but her husband's eyes. With a depressed air, Rukia sat down in the grass, unable to think.

Ichigo sat down next to her, understanding that she didn't want to talk. He didn't understand why, but he sat shoulder to shoulder with her so that she could feel him next to her. It was the right balance of space and closeness - she could lean on him if she wanted, it was up to her. He looked at the heap of tears collapsed on the grass as white-haired woman underneath Auntie K was trying to get out from under her. "Who's that?"

Rukia didn't answer.

Ichigo studied the woman for a moment. He couldn't place it, but she looked reminiscent. Like someone he might have met once before, or seen somewhere. "She looks familiar," Ichigo mused out loud, more out of curiousity than anything else.

His wife looked askance. "...Vaguely," she said evasively.

"What's gotten into you?" Ichigo grumped. "Something's bothering you, I know it. Just tell me already."

Rukia stood up abruptly. "I need to talk to Nanao-san," she said firmly. "Stay here."

"Wait - "

"Stay here, Ichigo."

"Alright, alright! Sheesh," he muttered.

-:-

Hinamori felt Morgan's warmth embracing her. He felt wonderful; a comfort like home. Her soul brimmed with hope. There is a future, she thought.

Her katana in his hands was still mercurial - it wasn't the shimmering innocence of what Tobiume had once been. It was if a superficial Tobiume had been superimposed upon her Savior, some new inner consciousness masquerading as her former self. It wasn't genuine, it was an imitation. Although perhaps imitation was a bit harsh. It was, perhaps, simply trying to emulate a better part of her. To become good, one must act good first, she thought. It was a possibility.

"Yoos okay, Momo-san?" he finally asked her.

"...I - I think."

"Yoos mind iffa I's hold yoos a bit longer?"

She smiled. "No." You really are a goody-two-shoes, Morgan. So good, that even _I_ can't help liking you.

-:-

Ichigo would have sat still, but the vaguely familiar woman had caught a hold of his gaze, and her eyes - a deeply emotional orange - locked into his with a force that even he couldn't reckon with. She proceeded to extract herself, and Ichigo saw his wife's alarm as the ghostly woman began to approach him - but Ichigo could not remove his stare.

-:-

Nanao resented what she had to do, but this had to happen.

"Nanao, let go of me!" Rukia hissed at her.

The handoshi general held her wrist tightly. "No," she said firmly, not looking her younger sister in the eye.

"Nanao, _let go!"_

_"No,"_ Nanao insisted, and cruelly zapped Rukia through the arm with a flash of electric reishi. The kido stunned Rukia into a shocked expression that Rukia immediately turned on Nanao in anger.

_"Nanao-san!"_ she ground her teeth bitterly.

_"Urusai,_ Rukia-chan," Nanao ordered quietly, deliberately putting down Rukia with the diminutive honorific. "This has to happen."

Rukia seethed and smoldered. She was livid with Nanao, for so many reasons. Hundreds of reasons, each one of them a tour de force that Rukia would have swung at Nanao like a club. And Nanao knew it, too. "I can't believe you," Rukia clenched through tightened jaw.

Nanao dismissed her without even so much as taking her eyes off of Miyako's procession. "Jealous?"

Rukia said nothing. Her cold, burning glare was enough.

Nanao's stern face held. She had confidence in her belief. _Life changes us. Death changes us. _It is the way Fate crafted us. "I wouldn't worry, Rukia-san."

The older-in-years-but-younger-nonetheless of the two sisters huffed in annoyance. Nanao was going to have her way and that was that. "I'm not worried," she lied.

"You couldn't seriously be doubting _Kurosaki Ichigo_, could you?"

Instantly, Rukia felt stupid, but she was still angry and jealous and mad. "...No," she admitted.

"Then what's your problem?" Nanao asked with a vicious, sadistically confrontational smirk.

_Everything,_ Rukia felt. She hated that Nanao had kept secrets from her. She hated that she felt so conflicted. She hated that she was jealous. She hated the whole situation. This was _Miyako-dono_ - the woman she had most admired, idolized, looked up to. This was someone she should have been elated to see alive. Instead, all she could feel was a fiery anger - that Miyako was going to take her husband away. That someone else could lay claim to him. To Ichigo! Rukia had given Ichigo part of her own soul, and now someone was going to challenge her place? And most of all, it was ridiculous of her to feel this way! Absolutely ludicrous, but she felt that way nonetheless! For her to be so stupid made her even more angry.

"You never struck me as the jealous type," Nanao taunted Rukia.

"Bitch," Rukia spat back harshly She almost regretted saying it the moment it left her mouth - it was not like her to say such things, especially not to Nanao.

Nanao laughed. "Wow, look who's in a bad mood."

"Shut up," Rukia answered, although it was just the manner in which she relented. Nanao was right. Rukia was in the wrong and didn't want to admit it.

"Watch," Nanao instructed, although this time, her smile was genuinely gentle and more sisterly than anything else.

Rukia looked to her husband, her alarm tentative but still waiting to emerge at any moment. "You're still a bitch," Rukia grumbled.

Nanao snickered. "Yeah, I know. Live with it."

-:-

Kuukaku, a mess of tears and confusion, watched with worry as her sister-in-law Miyako approached her nephew Ichigo. Rukia-san was already on edge; only Ise-san had kept Rukia from charging over.

Oh Kami, this is going to be a mess.

-:-

"Hi, Ichigo-kun," Miyako said, admittedly a touch nervous. He was still sitting, so she leaned over to let him see her face more clearly. I wonder if he remembers. I wonder if anywhere inside there, he remembers anything - ten years ago, or twenty-five years ago, or fifty years prior to that - I wonder if he remembers any of it.

Ichigo couldn't place her, but she felt... different. Like he was supposed to know who she was. No, even more than that; like he was instinctively supposed to identify her very essence. Like there was supposed to be some sort of eternal, unbreakable bond that could never be shattered. Something he knew he should have been feeling. "...Uh... hi," he stammered, wondering how she knew his name - and even if she did, why she felt that she could refer to him in such a personal way. "...Do I - uh, do I... know you?"

The woman closed her eyes, shook her head with a smile, and withdrew by standing up straight. "Once upon a dream," she replied with a nostalgic inflection. _Once upon a whisper's kiss,_ she wanted to say, but that was too intimate a thing for her to say now.

Ichigo was slightly confounded. "Uh, I - "

Before he could continue, she cut him off by turning around, although she stopped to look over her shoulder. Hand on her hilt, Ichigo felt a strange sensation as the woman whispered to him. "I am nothing more than a dream's memory, Kurosaki Ichigo. A pleasant dream it was, but a dream all the same."

When Ichigo's eyes refocused, he wondered who he had even been talking to. Or if he had even been talking at all.

-:-

Morgan's moments of triumph with his Goddess were interrupted by another Goddess of a very different quality. "Congratulations, Morgan."

He bowed his head respectfully. "I's graciously thanks yoos, Mizz - "

"Miyako-dono," Hinamori finished for him, not wanting him to screw up the pronunciation. Momo could barely tolerate it when he butchered _her_ name; she spared Miyako the indignity. It was the least she could do.

"What will you do now, Morgan?" the ghost asked.

Morgan shrugged with his typical lazy, laid-back southern charisma. "Same ol' things, I's guess. Helpin' peeples. S'Good ta doos whats yoos gooddat, tchaknow."

Miyako gave a pained smile. "Yes," she answered reluctantly.

"I's guess I's gots ta waits fer Jones now, eh?" he asked, somehow knowing that Miyako would know the answer.

Miyako's answer was emotionally indecipherable but most definitely evasive. "...You won't need to hunt him down for at least seventy years. Probably more."

Morgan paused. He was going to ask how she knew that, and then he realized it was probably a dumb question. "Oh."

The ghost hesitated for a moment. "Theodore," she began, but then stopped without words. Her expression was hurt, sad, and despondent. "...Excuse me, there's someone here I need to speak with."

"Wait," Momo interrupted. "Miyako-dono?"

"Yes?"

"...Thank you - thank you for everything."

Miyako smiled charmingly, but inside she felt so awkward and uncomfortable. She had owed Hinamori a hello, but Morgan was not someone she should have been talking with. In general, this whole situation had not been the way she would have wanted a reunion - her sudden appearance among so many had caused quite a ruckus. There were far too many introductions she would have wanted to do in private - she would have much preferred to sit and talk with Kuu-chan for hours if she could, but with everyone here, it wasn't the time. Nor had she been prepared for Kiyone. (To be fair, it was hard for _anyone_ to be prepared for Kiyone.) Now, Miyako could see the look in Momo's eyes; she could see her thinking and feeling - _'if only you had still been here'_, was what Momo's eyes had said. _'If only you were still here for us to come to when we didn't know what to do.'_

That look was something that Miyako had no good answer for. She hadn't wanted to die, it just happened. I am a Hikifune, after all. Most of us have died in the line of duty. It's practically our family's rite of passage.

With heavy heart and great discomfort, Miyako tried to put on her best face. After mildly succeeding, she returned to where her general was standing.

-:-

Rukia was feeling a thousand different emotions all at once. Miyako-dono was approaching, her white hair glistening in the sun's glaring rays and her tatter-edged cloak swaying in the breeze as her graceful figure approached. Her expression was a warm, inviting smile - the same kind that Rukia rememembered when Miyako had still been the 3rd seat of the 13th division - but Rukia found it nerve-wracking rather than disarming. She also wanted to slaughter Nanao for holding her back. She was so pissed - but on the other hand, she wasn't even sure if she had a right to be. At some level, Nanao was right - Rukia wasn't being rational. That didn't mean Rukia wasn't going to stay pissed, though; irrational or not.

Nanao sensed her discomfort, and with a pat of her hand on Rukia's shoulder, she disengaged to give them space. Whatever was to follow would be best shared without her meddling in between. She had meddled enough. Talk about screwups, she thought to herself. This is the last thing I needed - bringing Miyako-dono here when Kurosaki was here. As if my relationship with Rukia-san hasn't been strained enough over the past few weeks.

"Kuchiki-san," Miyako said, taking cue from Nanao's distancing. She had missed the opportunity earlier at Nanao-san's behest, and she was happy to have Nanao give them space this time. "Or, I suppose I should say, Kuchiki _Taicho_."

"...-_Oujo_taicho," Rukia absentmindedly corrected. Nii-sama had been first, and the more honorable, standalone _-taicho_ title belonged to him.

Rukia attempted to penetrate Miyako's charm. There was something hiding behind that innocent smile, something that was sorry and struggling. It put Rukia on pins and needles; almost enough to make her feel like she was going to choke on her own tongue. That charm was always something that had put her at ease; now it was putting her stomach in a centrifuge.

"I'm proud of you," Miyako seemed to say genuinenly.

"Miyako-dono..." Rukia stammered. It was hard for her to believe that she was talking to her again. "I - I - " That was all she could get out before she sighed and her throat began to close. What are you doing _here_? What do you plan to do now that you _are_ here? Why didn't you - why didn't you come back? Why - why did you leave us? How could you have left all of us, so many of us, so many of us that looked up to you? What the hell are you doing in _Hell_? Why - how - why -

"Kaien-dono wasn't the only one who wanted you to take his place," Miyako said softly.

The reference to Rukia's former lieutenant badge - the one that had Kaien's instruction, _Save this for Kuchiki_ - brought tears to Rukia's eyes. She couldn't speak. The layers of meaning that could have been embedded into that statement left her with so many questions - so many doubts, so many worries, so many begging, begging questions. Was that supposed to mean everything it could have sounded like? How - how could she say that? Did that mean -

"They all look up to you," Miyako explained, a not-so-subtle hint of masking her true meaning evident in her disarming smile. "_You_ are their ideal shinigami now. I don't doubt you'll live up to it."

No, Rukia thought to herself - no, I never could be as good as -

"Selling yourself short, as always," Miyako smiled teasingly, not worried if Rukia knew that she was reading her mind.

"I - "

"_Hush,_ Kuchiki Oujotaicho," Miyako gently suggested. Whatever Kuchiki was going to say, Miyako didn't want to hear it. She may have been a saint, but there was only so much emotional complexity Miyako could handle. At heart, she had always been delicate. Talking to her late husband's new wife - even someone she gladly approved of and thought deserving for both of them - was not something she was ready to do at length right now. This was far too much drama for her. All she wanted was to go back to her little room in the bowels of Hell and take a hot bubble bath with an _exceedingly_ large glass of red wine. (Even in Hell, there were a few perks reserved for those at her rank.) "Nanao-san?"

"Yes?" Nanao answered, a good few paces away and somewhat surprised to be invited back into the conversation so soon.

Miyako looked back and forth between Kuchiki and Nanao, and opted for a touch of humor; lest her own discomfort become noticeable. "Kuchiki-san looks like she wants to punch you."

Nanao laughed smugly. "It's Thursday," she teased.

"Nanao-san!" Rukia protested.

Miyako laughed. "Looks like you two have what to talk about."

Nanao sighed. This had not been anything like she had envisioned these two seeing each other again. "Yeah."

Feeling as though she had fulfilled her obligations to re-meet those present, Miyako was ready to go. She was spent and didn't have the emotional fortitude for any more of this reunion saga. Some other time, she would come back for more one-on-one time, but right now, she needed to go home. Back to the 8th Legion, back to torturing Grimmjaw and Aaroniero and the others, back to figuring out how to let Colonel Haupt know that she really, really, _really_ wasn't interested in another date. Anything to get back to normal. (Saints have their limits, too.) "Ise Shosho, I need to go home."

"Go," Nanao nodded softly, acknowledging that Miyako was leaving behind a mess but that it was very much Nanao's problem. She had been the one to create it, after all.

"Wait!" Rukia called out to Miyako, causing the handoshi elite to turn to the shinigami captain. "Miyako-dono?"

"Yes?"

"...It was good to see you," Rukia confessed, albeit not without some internal conflict. She was speaking to Miyako-dono, but her eyes were solidly locked on her husband, still sitting down in the grass, waiting for her. "...Maybe we could... spend some time... talking, or something."

Miyako's charming half smile was radiant - the kind of look that stole men's hearts, the charisma that had made so many women look to her as their vision of the perfect female. "That would be nice."

Surprised for some unknown reason at Miyako's enthusiasm, Rukia's heart stopped in doubt. She was just too overwhelmed to know what she wanted to think anymore.

Nanao looked to both women. "Go, you two. We'll talk later," she said, all business-like and commander-y. It was the best she could do to mask her own frustrated feelings. Nanao had never been fond of spilled secrets, and now she had explaining to do that she would have very much preferred to avoid.

"Goodbye, Kuchiki-oujotaicho," Miyako smiled one last time.

"...Uh, goodbye, Miyako-dono," Rukia answered politely enough, but she was distracted. Ichigo was waiting for her, and she felt so uneasy that she just didn't have her heart in the moment. She felt so disconnected from reality - her whole world had been turned upside down, and not because she had just survived and averted a not-potential-but-actually-actual apocalypse.

Miyako, always one to understand the minds and emotions of others even without her telepathic abilities, took it in stride. With a final wave, she departed for the iron gates of purgatory, her tattered gray cloak flapping in the breeze. The saint soon passed through its threshold, and was then gone from sight.

-:-

Rukia rushed over, unable to restrain herself anymore. "Ichigo!"

"Rukia," he replied, shaking his head a bit to scatter the fog that had clouded over him. He hadn't been able to shake it. "What's wrong?"

"Are you okay?" she asked, panicked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he grumbled with an annoyed look. "What's gotten into you? You're all weird today."

"What did she do?"

"Huh? Who?"

Rukia paused. "Ichigo - "

Ichigo put a hand over her mouth. "Rukia, are you hurt? Shake your head yes or no."

Startled by his very unexpected interruption, she shook her head in the negative.

"Good," he said, and then moved his hand from her mouth to her palm. "Then help me up, and then let's go see Hikaru-chan."

Thrown off course, Rukia looked at him, her eyes filled with all sorts of confusion. "Ichigo, I- I - what happened - "

"What are you babbling about? Sheesh, you're all kinds of strange today."

"But she - "

"She?"

"Yes, she - "

"Who's 'she'?"

Rukia stammered. "The woman that was just with you."

"What woman?"

"The one with the white hair!"

"Who the hell are you talking about? You mean Nanao-san?"

"No, I mean - "

"Rukia, I swear, are you sure you didn't hit your head or something?"

She paused. Her heart was racing and her head was pounding. "Ichigo - I'm just... just - just worried about you," she said, not really sure what she could say that would make sense to him.

"Whoa, look out," Ichigo interrupted, holding her down as a huge gust of wind passed over them. It was the Gate to Hell - the huge gates were beginning to close and the last of the various handoshi soldiers were hurrying to return through the threshold.

"Crazy, huh?" he asked her tiny figure that was cradled up in his larger form. "To think that Hell has their own shinigami."

"...I think they are called handoshi," she answered, sidetracked from her previous anxiety.

"The 'Hands of Death'," Ichigo nodded. "I wonder if any one of them ever did something so strange, like falling in love with a human."

Rukia seized up. "And what if they did?" she asked nervously.

"What of it?" Ichigo shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I bet it could never happen."

"_We_ happened," Rukia suggested meekly.

"Tch," Ichigo laughed, and looked at her with loving eyes. "Some things, not even Hell could get in the way."

Rukia let out a smile as she found herself finally exhaling. I am such an idiot, she thought as her smile widened. "I guess not."

* * *

_Hey guys, sorry it's been a while. Real life got in the way. It happens. :) Anyway, thanks for sticking through the lean times - **please leave some reviews!** We're almost at the end. :) -njx_


	56. The End of the Beginning

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Translator's note:** "Tawake" is a Japanese insult and is similar to "Baka". It means 'fool' or 'idiot'. Used endearingly, it could be translated as 'dummy'._

* * *

_"Pomadora. After my father."_  
_~ Shihoin Toyuki Tokine, to her husband Kyon; naming their first son moments after he was born _

* * *

"Makina-chan? What are you doing _here_?"

"Good evening, Ichihime-sama," Makina bowed. "Nikayui Adame-sama asked me to let him know when you had returned."

Ichihime let out a laugh of disbelief. It was nice to know that he cared about her, but sending Makina-chan to the main senkai gate was a bit much. She pulled out her cell phone and called Adame.

"Hello? Ichihime-sama? Are you alright?"

"You're still calling me by that ridiculous pontifical honorific?"

He laughed. "If I didn't know better, I would say that you sound totally fine."

Ichihime chuckled. "You're cute," she admitted. "I'm fine. Totally fine. Everything went great."

"From what I hear, you had multiple broken bones; including a shattered collarbone, several broken ribs, major internal bleeding, and a bad case of vertigo."

"That's a total lie," Ichihime answered facetiously. "I did not get vertigo at all. Ceiling-Bonker can verify."

He laughed at her admission to receiving serious injury in such a roundabout fashion. "Seriously, though, are you okay? I want to see you."

"I really can't wait to see you," Ichihime admitted, "but I have to go through a lot of debriefings. This was a mess. It might take a couple of days before I have all of the answers and get through it all."

He sounded surprised. "A couple of days? Really?"

"Welcome to the Gotei 13," she teased. "It's like Hell, except we have five times as much paperwork." The truth was that she wanted to see him today, but she wasn't ready. She had a lot to think about. The last thing she wanted to do was charge in and be unprepared to really tell him what she wanted to say. It was worth being patient.

"Alright," he sighed. "I love you. I want to see you soon."

Ichihime's heart burst with joy. She could never stop believing how his simple admission could make her feel. "I'll stop by as soon as I can."

They said final goodbyes, and then Ichihime hung up. "Makina-chan?"

"Yes, Ichihime-sama?"

"Call the manor and have them draw a bath," she instructed. "I smell worse than hollow slime. And there is no way in Hell or Hueco Mundo or rotting-flesh New York that I am going to my fiance smelling like this."

Makina couldn't help but give a smirk. It was nice to have things back to normal for a while.

-:-

Nanao entered her apartment, not really knowing how this evening would go.

_I'll tell you,_ her zanpakutou Saya suddenly spoke up. _You're going to soak me in a tall glass of vodka while you jerk off until I've come seven times._

You are disgustingly crass.

_Hey, you owe me, Sister. I saved your ass._

You caused me a lot of trouble.

_Your decision to go bankai, not mine. And by the way, what's with you? Since when did you have a problem with jerking off?_

I don't, Nanao fired back in irritation, but I owe Shuu some explanations first, don't you think?

Saya sneered. _I'm horny, I don't care._

Shut the fuck up, please!

_You better break out the vib-_

Nanao hurled her zanpakutou, sheath and all, into the kitchen drawer and slammed it shut. Enough of you, she muttered.

_Let me out of here! At least give me the vodka! Hey! Sister! Not fair!_

Nanao ignored her tanto, and finally not distracted, realized that Shuuhei wasn't here. That was surprising - she had expected that he would be home by now. She had passed by the captain's pavilion, and he wasn't in with Abarai. They lived in Hisagi's vice captain's apartment in the 9th division barracks complex, so if he was in the division's territory, she was sure she would have seen him.

Just as she was about to call, the door opened, and Shuu came in. "Ah, you're home."

"Just got in. Where have you been? I thought you would be home by now."

"At the 8th," he answered, standoffish.

Nanao was disheartened. "You didn't just go talk to Papa, did you?"

"I did," he admitted. "And I'm not telling you a word about what we discussed, so don't ask."

She was tempted to pry but decided it wasn't a good idea. "Alright, then."

Shuuhei pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table; she allowed him to do the chivalry thing and took a seat. He poured two glasses of water, and then took out the vodka. Nanao watched with amusement as he uncorked it, opened the kitchen drawer, and emptied the rest of the bottle - over half - into it.

She would have asked what the heaven he was doing, but he was obviously baiting her. She countered instead. "That's a waste of good vodka, you know."

"Getting Saya-chan to shut up for a few hours is not a waste of vodka."

Nanao sighed. "We're having this conversation, aren't we."

"We are," he agreed, enjoying how his needling little smile was poking fun at her secrecy. He took a seat at the table and handed Nanao her water.

"Where do I start?" she exhaled, just wanting to get this over with.

"From the beginning."

"The beginning is a really, really long time ago."

"I've got another bottle of vodka in the pantry."

"Damn you and your promises," Nanao muttered. He was really prepared this time.

Finally relenting, she started telling him everything; from the very beginning. The life and death of Chibaniki Saya, her blood being the catalyst that created the very first shinigami, her ten thousand years in Hell; her life as Isabella Cantare Roselli, dying on her sister Vivian's wedding day through a botched blood transfusion; the Crowngifter's adornment that was none other than the Queen's Royal Scarf that revealed to her the History of Fate on Rukia's wedding day. She explained how Saya was much more interested in drinking blood than vodka, and how her shikai was a sonic fan (which was, to her surprise, the thing Shuuhei had the most difficult time believing). She told him everything. There were no more secrets. No more secrets to keep, no more omissions to guard, no more truths to hide.

Well, maybe one. She didn't have to admit her little battlefield misjudgement about marriage and children. That, at least, she decided she could keep secret for a little while longer.

-:-

_A few days later_

Ryogi Shiki entered the 3rd division's captain's pavilion. As usual, her head was held high with her typical snooty, arrogant confidence. For once, it wasn't an act.

Rukia looked up from her paperwork. Ever the imperious, Ryogi was gazing down at her. Rukia wondered if Ryogi knew how condescending she generally appeared. She assumed it was years of discrimination that had hardened her to rebel against the world; to always see herself better than the rest for the sake of contradicting their prejudices. On the other hand, Ryogi Shiki was a high-ranking Middle Noble, and they were always the most insufferable when it came to their honor.

It was a shame, too. Ryogi Shiki was an admittedly attractive woman; with a heart-shaped face, appealing eyes and a sleek chin. Her smile was always only half-done and could easily be seen as enticing. Her figure was slender and slim; not attention-grabbing but not by any means unattractive. While it most certainly had to be a major factor, Rukia doubted if prejudice against the mentally ill was the only thing that had kept her from finding a decent suitor. She was pretty enough; Rukia wouldn't have found it surprising if Ryogi's snobbish attitude had deterred those who may have overlooked her schizophrenia. On the other hand, most nobles in the Middle Families don't really care about their wife's attitude. Their wives are trophies; to be looked at but never heard - and trophy wives aren't supposed to have stigmas attached.

Shiki was not enthused by the lack of fanfare at her arrival. Kuchiki had looked at her as she came in, but then resumed her paperwork. Not exactly the greeting she had anticipated. It was even less encouraging when Kuchiki nonchalantly reached into her desk and pulled out a big fat envelope and dumped it onto the table in Ryogi's direction. It landed with an unceremonious thud, and Kuchiki went back to her paperwork.

"What is this?" Shiki asked, gesturing to the unglamorous envelope with a tilt of her chin.

"Your application for 3rd division 18th seat," Rukia explained, more or less disinterested.

"And what of it?" Shiki prodded, her eyes narrowing. She feared she knew the answer.

"Rejected," Rukia noted, equally disinterested.

Shiki's blood boiled, and she exhaled with a fury she had felt before; but held her stony, ice cold expression. "I see." Disappointment - again. Father was right. I got burned. And here I had expected Banzo and Kuchiki to treat me like a person. In the end, I was just their tool. Seething and steaming, she ground out some bitter spite through clenched teeth. "Will that be all, Kuchiki Taicho?"

Rukia shook her head and resumed her paperwork. "Nothing else for today."

Shiki turned on her heel, with severe urge to raze the building to the ground. But before she could make much distance, her captain interrupted.

"2pm sharp tomorrow, Ryogi."

Shiki paused and looked back to her captain. "Excuse me?"

"2pm sharp tomorrow, Ryogi. Here."

Despite being puzzled by the invitation, Shiki's anger was still too hot to be pushed aside. Her tone was harsh and accusatory. "May I ask for what?"

"Officer's meeting," Rukia answered, not even looking up from her paperwork.

Huh? "...But I thought - "

Rukia looked up from her paperwork with a raised eyebrow. Ryogi could be so obtuse sometimes. "Are you going to come, or not?"

Shiki hesitated, but ultimately found her tongue. "If that is your request, then... yes, I will be there. But... but I thought my application was rejected."

Rukia rolled her eyes. "I don't care for demotions."

Now _that_ confused Shiki. "...Demotions?"

Rukia bored her eyes into Ryogi's skull. Loyalty was always something earned - and that worked both ways. It was an important lesson. "You will show up at the officer's meeting tomorrow, _15th Seat_ Ryogi Shiki; 2pm sharp. Understand?"

Shiki blinked. Rather stupidly, in fact. "...15th Seat?"

"Did you honestlty think I was going to tolerate someone like you wasting your time as a senior patrol officer?" Rukia asked sharply. "I have a division to rebuild, Ryogi. The previous leadership was excised and now I am asking more of everyone. I expect you to step up."

As usual, Shiki was quick to regain her haughty composure. So this is how you like to do things, Kuchiki. _Break us down in order to build us up._ To Shiki, that meant two things. One, it meant that her captain was not only good on her promises, but that she was fair and operated on meritocracy. It also meant that she knew what it meant to run a division - you take the worst parts of a person, cut them off and throw them away, and then you take the good parts and make sure they know that's where they need to be. Ryogi Shiki's brain may have functioned with a significant handicap relative to her peers, but that didn't mean she wasn't smart. She understood all of this - all of the things she had wished for. "Kuchiki Taicho?"

"-Oujotaicho," Rukia corrected.

"Kuchiki Oujotaicho," Shiki began, but paused. With an exhale, a tiny pursed smile formed on her face - the kind that comes from someone who actually throws away their pride and accepts the opportunity to be humbled by another. It was a display of vulnerability that Ryogi Shiki would never, ever be known for. "I am grateful for what you've done for me."

"I did nothing," Rukia dismissed, shrugging a hard shoulder as she resumed her paperwork. "Under my command, people earn my trust by displaying leadership, competency, and unwavering loyalty. I demand it - and I respect it when it is received. That is the way I operate, and the way this division will commence under my command."

With a sudden overwhelming admiration for her new captain, Ryogi Shiki bowed to her. "Thank you again."

Rukia dismissed her with a wave of her hand, but gestured to the envelope. "Your official acceptance paperwork is in there, too. Take it."

"_Hai,_ Oujotaicho," she lockstepped, and took the unmarked manilla envelope. With a final appreciative nod and humbled smile, Shiki made to depart.

She could see the world a whole new way - in a much better light. Everything was brighter, more hopeful. Even more interesting was how she began to understand why so many of her peers - female shinigami all over the Gotei 13 - looked up to this woman. Kuchiki Rukia was everything - strong, true, proud, loyal, noble, and even beautiful. Shiki could begin to comprehend why Kuchiki Oujotaicho had such devoted followers - the Kotetsu Kiyones of the world had good reason to admire her.

Eager to report to her father this incredible turn of events, she made haste on her way home. In practice, 15th seat was a huge difference from 18th seat, and it was an incredible surprise to have been selected so favorably. She had never imagined she would skip the bottom quarter of the seated officer's ranks. Her father would be floored. Even better, she would feel vindicated.

Her comely eyes soaked in the sun, but it was Shiki's earnest smile that was far more radiant. Wind chimes played in her ear as she began to endure a minor schizophrenic episode, but for once, she didn't care.

-:-

**_1_**

Hitamake Hanzo was having a bad case of "spoke too soon". If there was one thing he regretted, it was how he had been joking with Kuchiki Oujotaicho that Yamamoto-dono had been the vice captain to the previous Soutaicho. As vice captain of the 1st, Hanzo found himself in the extremely odd position of being Acting Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13, a job he very much did not want and was _not_ well suited for.

His first act was to call an immediate captain's meeting, in order to elect the next Soutaicho. Although there was significant thought to give the title to Unohana Retsu, she staunchly threw her support behind Ukitake Jushiro, whom all saw as the obvious choice.

That meant Hitamake had another problem - the decimated 13th division leadership. With the death of 3rd Seat Kotsubaki Sentaro and the promotion of Head Lieutenant Kuchiki Rukia to 3rd division captain, the 13th division was now completely headless. Considering that it was by far the largest division, that wouldn't fly. Hitamake had limited options, as there were only three non-captains who had achieved bankai: Kurosaki Ichigo, Kotetsu Kiyone, and now Hisagi Shuuhei. Kurosaki was a nonstarter, for too many reasons.

Hitamake gambled his credibility as a shinigami administrator by nominating Kotetsu. As a former 3rd seat and acting lieutenant of the 13th, she was the most prepared to run the division with the most number of moving parts. There had been many serious objections, however; and not a single one of them was simple accusations of nepotism (as her husband was now the Captain Commander). Most were centered around her maturity - was she prepared to assume the responsibility?

Ukitake Jushiro, Shihoin Yoruichi, Kuchiki Rukia, Kyouraku Shunsui, Abarai Renji, and Urahara Kisuke were more or less in favor. It was a stretch position for her, but they did not have any other options; Kiyone would have to prove herself. Shiba Kuukaku, Kuchiki Byakuya, Banzo Ichihime, and Hitsugaya Toshiro were all very much opposed to her nomination. Unohana Retsu and Komamura Saijin were undecided, although both were leaning in the negative. With only six in favor and six tentatively voting no, Ise Nanao was cast as the swing vote.

After great deliberation, Nanao argued that Kiyone was indeed a very different person than the punk who had challenged Rukia a decade ago. At the young age of 90, she was married - to someone significantly older, forcing her to deal with the social ramifications. In that time, she had also found religion; and Nanao believed that while Kiyone was still in some ways superficially very immature, that she had always taken responsibility seriously. Nanao argued that what truly worried people was not that Kiyone lacked the leadership or capability to be a captain, but that she lacked the lifetime of experience to provide wisdom. To that, Nanao pointed out that Kiyone was aware of her limitations in that respect and that she took counsel from others - her husband, her current captain, and her longtime mentor and rolemodel, Rukia. It thus made sense to Nanao that, without any better options, Kiyone was a sensible choice under the circumstances and deserved the opportunity.

It was a dispassionate, logical argument; but it won favor with Unohana and Komamura. Banzo also seemed to consider switching positions, and Hitsugaya was less adamant in his considerations. In the end, Hitamake had proven his salt and had two captain's positions filled during his extremely brief tenure as Soutaicho (a position which he was glad to serve alongside but hoped that he would never have to fill the seat again). Despite the intense debate - some of which was extremely vitriolic - it was thus ultimately concluded that 8th division vice captain Kotetsu Kiyone would return to the 13th as its new captain.

The former vice captain of the 8th and current library-managing vaizard, Yadomaru Lisa, would return as 8th division vice captain. Ise Nanao and Kyouraki Shunsui were both very wary about this decision, and Urahara Kisuke wondered if that was wise (speaking from the perspective of Rantao Kiku's captain), a concern that was echoed by Shihoin Yoruichi. In the end, Ukitake Jushiro, in his last act as the 13th division captain, asked his best friend Kyouraku Shunsui to straighten the situation out so that Lisa could fill the position. After much "_Juu_"s and "_Yare yare_"s and "_Tch_"s, Shunsui agreed to get his shit together.

Formalities dispensed, Hitamake Hanzo relinquished his Acting Soutaicho role to his new captain, Ukitake Jushiro, and returned to being the quiet nobody in a room full of somebodies. After the remaining captains departed, he let out a sigh of relief.

"You did exceptionally well today, Hanzo-san," Jushiro commented.

"Thank you, Sir," Hanzo bowed very formally. "I tried my best."

Jushiro smiled. "Do you have a family?"

"Yes, Sir. A wife and two kids, Sir."

Ukitake wondered if he would mind the whole 'Sir' bit. He was used to working with Kuchiki, whom (at least from the perspective of nobility) he was supposed to be socially subservient to. It was going to take some time getting used to working with someone who might not be able to reach a level of informality for quite some time. "I bet your wife is very proud of you."

Hitamake bowed again. "Yes, Sir."

Yeah, this is going to take a while. "Take the rest of the night off, Hanzo-san," Jushiro ordered casually. "We've got a lot to do tomorrow."

Hanzo was sure of it. "Thank you, Sir," and he left.

Jushiro let out a mild smile of earnest amusement. He's like Sasakibe Chojiro the Second, he mused, except without the mustache and the love of all things English. But personality? Well, I guess we'll have to work on that.

-:-

_**2**_

Hana Tsubaki stood by the arbitrary grave in the Fon Family cemetery. The tombstone was practically bare; marked only with Soifon's name.

Placing a single black rose in its shadow, Tsubaki stood up and turned to the east. In the horizon, the Shihoin residence could be seen. It was her next destination. Babysitting Zarina was the cover story. Her true mission was to use that time to see if she could coax details out of Shihoin-Naga Toyuki Tokine. Yoruichi-sama was certain that the events in Kathura Battle had affected Toki in some deep way that was not immediately evident. The bonded sigma zanpakutou, Genesis, had at one point been spread thin across three physical weapons. That kind of strain had to be felt, and since Toki-chan was used to Tsubaki's presence around the manner, it was decided that the mission was Tsubaki's responsibility. Not exactly standard Covert Ops material, but Tsubaki didn't mind. She actually had a fondness for the autistic woman. Tsubaki found her inspirational.

With a last wish for her mentor to rest in peace, Tsubaki left for the Shihoin residence, trying very hard to compartmentalize. It was hard for her, and the ache of losing her captain and close friend had been difficult to cope with lately. She was thinking of approaching Kotetsu Isane and asking for some counseling. Tsubaki imagined she wasn't the first Onmitsukido member to ask for counseling, and probably wouldn't be the last.

Her thoughts were broken by a call from Omaeda. "What's up?"

"Did you eat my donuts?" came a muffled reply.

"Goodbye, Omaeda," Tsubaki replied with a roll of her eyes, and then hung up. The truth was, though, that she _had_ eaten his donuts, and damn did they taste good. If there was one final lesson she would learn from Soifon - one more thing she would learn about the Way of the Onmitsukido - it was this:

Sure; it's okay to die. But just make sure you've lived first.

-:-

Shihoin Zarina was, like her mother, a troublemaker of no negligible quality. So when Yoruichi and Kisuke came into the house and saw Zari-chan running around buck naked - and being chased by one of the servant staff shouting at her to hold still so that they could put a diaper on her - Kisuke was the first to wipe his hands clean of the whole affair. "You're the fast one," he teased.

With a facepalm for her husband and a flash step for her daughter, Zari soon found herself getting a very stern mouth below yellow eyes as her definitive authority figure strapped on the infant undergarment. Yet, to Yoruichi's frustration, Zari just laughed. "Made you flash!" she cackled, and then as soon as her mother finished with her diaper, Zari bolted between her mother's legs and hid under the table.

So you want to play cat and mouse, eh? Yoruichi smiled a wide smirk. Takes one to know one, she laughed, and at her daughter's cue, animorphed. Here I come, you little mischief-maker.

-:-

_**3**_

Rukia was exhausted, and set down Sode no Shirayuki on the rack. Now she realized what it must have been like for Nii-sama in between Renji and Banzo-dono. With Ichihime-dono's promotion, he was probably just as busy as she was. In any case, it was already late; and all she wanted to do was go to bed.

-:-

Shiba Kanchi awoke, screaming like bloody murder. A bleary-eyed Ganju got out of bed, surprised to see that, of the triplets, it was Kanchi who had awoken. She usually slept through; it was Tancho and Pancho that usually woke up and caused trouble.

Semi-conscious, he took the fussy baby girl to his wife Ina; who nursed her until Kanchi calmed down. Still bleary-eyed, Ganju returned Kanchi to her crib.

Kanchi seemed to be awake, and stared at him as though she expected Ganju to play with her now that they were both awake. He wasn't, so he kissed her on the forehead. "Good night," he whispered with a fatherly smile, and returned to bed. Ina, who had been sleeping but was now only half-so from nursing, rolled over and cuddled. He gave her a kiss.

"She's going to be just like me," Ina whispered to her husband, yawning in the middle.

"Mmm?" was all he could respond. Ina took the translation as 'How so?'

Ina yawned again. "Dunno, she just will be."

"Mmm," Ganju mumbled, and the two went back to sleep.

-:-

**_4_**

Isane cradled Hanataro in her arms. They were sitting on the couch in her apartment. Isane was wearing her men's white boxers and a sleeveless tee; Hanataro was only wearing briefs. One of her unbound cantalope-sized breasts was serving as a pillow for his head, the other was giving him something to canoodle with. It was quiet; most people at this hour were sleeping. Their 4th division shifts had given them an end-of-day well past midnight.

"I was really, really worried about you," Hanataro admitted. His hand stopped its playfulness and moved to her waist as he balled up his tiny body into her lap.

"I know," she smiled, and kissed him on the head. "But I came back just fine."

"I still worried," he persisted.

"That's sort of what you do, though," she teased.

"Hey, not nice," Hanataro frowned.

"Sorry," she replied bashfully, and gave him a tight squeeze.

After a few moments, Isane interrupted the quiet. "Say, I wanted to ask you something."

"What?"

"Do you think that, maybe if Unohana Taicho ever retired or something, that one day I could be captain of the 4th?"

Hanataro pulled back for a moment to give her a surprised look. Isane was not generally someone who would think of such things. "Huh?"

Isane sighed. "Never mind."

He put his head back on her breast. "You would have to learn bankai first," he said, although not dismissively.

"...Do you think I could?"

He shrugged. "I think you can do anything," he insisted, without even the slightest hint of insincerity.

Isane wasn't expecting that endorsement. "Really?"

"Sure," he confirmed, and went back to massaging the other side of her chest, even though Isane didn't seem to be so interested. "I think you're amazing. Unohana Taicho does, too. She's probably assumed you'll take over for her eventually."

That wasn't _too_ hard for Isane to believe, but it was still a big leap. "But... bankai? You really think I could do it?"

Hanataro had a rare moment of genuine wisdom. "What I think doesn't matter, right? Isn't it about what you think? I mean, I don't think I could ever achieve bankai. But if you think you can, you eventually will, right?"

She was unconvinced. "I don't know that it's that simple."

"I'm sure it's not," he agreed. "But you're really amazing. If you want to learn bankai, I bet you could. I bet you could learn it just like you learn all of those special medical procedures Unohana Taicho teaches you, the ones that are too hard for the rest of us to do. Stuff I hear saved your life when you were fighting out there, making me worry about you."

Isane wasn't convinced, but she wasn't as disinclined to the idea as she previously was. "Maybe," she noted, a touch hopeful that it was possible.

As if to signal that was all that needed to be discussed, Hanataro rubbed his hand between the legs of his new wife's boxers. Taking the hint, Isane relaxed, and forgot about any latent ambitions she might have suddenly been discovering. She wouldn't confess, but she had never believed for one minute that she wouldn't come back home to him. The old Isane may have worried about whether she would have survived, but this new Isane did not.

She didn't even know it, but that was because Isane had too much confidence to think that she wouldn't return to her lovable little squirt that cherished every piece of her and thought she was the queen of every known universe. She was beyond flimsy self-evaluations, and saw potential in her self that she had not previously seen. Maybe it was her husband's faith in her, maybe it was just maturity, maybe it was just feeling loved and supported that gave her the ability to go places. She didn't know, but at the moment she didn't care - because whatever Hanataro was doing down there, she liked it too much to pay attention to much else.

-:-

Kyon awoke early in the morning to find Toki hovering overhead. Unlike most days, when she wore her shinigami uniform, today she had opted for her sailor fuku. [Good morning,] she signed robotically.

"Ohio," he answered, trying to show his willingness to learn her ways and say good morning in his brutally mispronounced Japanese version of the same.

She cocked her head to the side, almost as if to imply that his accent was slightly less than atrocious, but better than the day before. He laughed. [Will you marry me?]

He looked at her, stupified. "I'm sorry, Toki. I don't understand those signs."

If Toki was frustrated, only Kyon would have been able to tell. She trotted quickly over to a bookshelf and removed several books, handing them one at a time to him. The majority of them were Jane Austen novels.

No doubt, Kyon was perplexed. "Uh, I guess I should read a bit, yes?"

Toki didn't answer her common 'yes' or 'no', which he found unusual. She just signed at him again. [I'm asking you to marry me.]

Kyon shook his head in apology. He was used to this, but these situations could still be frustrating. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

With a nearly imperceptible huff, Toki signed back at him. [You need to learn sign language.]

_That_ set of signs he recognized well. "I know," he smiled apologetically.

Annoyed, Toki looked at him with focused eyes, and then decided something. She looked at him again and signed very formally. [Kyon, will you marry me and be my husband for as long as you live?] Then, she reached for his hand, raised it up, balled it into a fist, and made it do a little nod - the widely recognized sign for 'yes'; one she was sure he knew.

Without having a clue of what he was saying yes to (but knowing that it was obviously very important), Kyon repeated the gesture on his own. [Yes,] he signed, but shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he still didn't have any idea what she was talking about.

Toki, for her part, didn't seem to care. With no sway of emotion at all, she signed to him something so fast that even if he recognized some of it, she was sure he wouldn't pick it up. [I will inform Yoruichi-sama and have arrangements made. Thank you. Goodbye.] Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked quickly out of their bedroom.

Kyon, for his part, decided that some things were always just going to be a mystery with her; and proceeded to get his day started.

-:-

_**5**_

Kuukaku was out in the sticks; way out far in her old home in the Rukongai. There, she was crying; crying in a small closet. Her tears dripped, one by one, into the ashes of the remains of whatever Shiba Miyako's previous body had left behind at the hands of Metastacia.

To think that all this time, she had been serving in Hell, Kuukaku thought. She had read the recent report that Ise had provided to the captains, documenting Handoshi lore and the rules, regulations, and ramifications of one's contract to Handoshi servitude. To think that Miyako had to now suffer in such a contract; it was horrible. Kuukaku bawled inside just as much as she did on the outside.

It wasn't a pretty thought. Kuukaku knew that Miyako's principle job was to torture the dead espada, but Kuukaku knew better. Miyako was a delicate soul. No matter how fitting it was, Miko-chan should not have to do that, she felt. It was painful to absorb, and even more painful to reflect upon - for the fact was, there was nothing that Kuukaku could do about it.

_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,_ they say, Kuukaku thought, wiping her tears with her short arm.

"I guess it is a good thing you are not among the saints," Byakuya commented from behind her. It was a poor attempt at comfort, but comforting others had always been one of Kuchiki Byakuya's worst skills. "You will not have to endure her same fate."

She turned to him, teary-eyed but incredulous that he had the nerve to show up - and even more so, make a comment. "Since when do you know how to soothe a lady's heart, Byakuya-san?"

He closed his eyes and released a confessional sigh. She was right, of course. He was indeed horrendous at this. Nonetheless, he handed her a picture.

She took it without comment. It was a picture of her in younger times, drinking and celebrating with Miko-chan and Kai-niichan. "Yeah, so?" she asked, wondering what the hell he had given her this picture for.

"Show it to her when you see her again." This was all he said, and then in a classic Kuchiki Byakuya fashion, he turned away and left.

"You're an ass, Byakuya-san," she yelled after him. She allowed that to hang in the air after him, but then ran after him. Catching up, she took him by the arm. He said nothing, but looked at her with a sideways glance and raised eyebrow.

Kuukaku felt obliged. "You're an ass, Byakuya-san," she said, sniffing. "But you're my ass, and I love you. And you get credit for trying."

Nodding in acceptance, he unwound arms so that he could take her hand. Within that very private space between their palms, he gestured many deep layers of love and care; sensitivity and understanding. Byakuya's feelings, while never able to expressed well in words, were always crystal sharp in the way his fingers caressed the back of her hand, or the way he strobed her knuckles with his thumb. It was one of the things Kuukaku found most remarkable about him - for a man thought to be so unexpressive, he was so transparent to her in that very secretive form of communication.

Kuukaku felt guilty for being bitter with him. "Sorry. I'm just... not coping well."

Byakuya, with his limited capacity for being supportive, had nonetheless acquired the wisdom to know what his wife needed at this very moment. It was nothing more than a simple declaration. "I am here."

She stopped him, so that she could embrace him and feel him close. "I know," she whispered through tears. "And believe me, I am truly grateful."

Hand in hand, the two traveled home. The aristocracy may have believed that the bond between Kuukaku and Byakuya was no stronger than scotch tape, but that was irrelevant. Both of them knew otherwise.

-:-

The agony in Momo's chest was deep and painful, but she supposed that was how it was supposed to be.

At Rangiku-san's bedside, she gazed with sadness at the prone woman. Matsumoto was still in a coma. According to Unohana Taicho, Matsumoto had a 48-hour window. Right now, the coma was likely constructive; but if she didn't wake up over the next two days, it was unlikely she ever would. Either way, Unohana had already submitted paperwork for Matsumoto's honorable discharge from the Gotei 13. Hinamori wondered if Matsumoto had any good reason to wake up at all.

"We got that bastard," Momo whispered to her sleeping friend. She wanted to cry, but she was no longer physically capable. Her artificial eye's tear glands had been destroyed in her injury; the ones for her natural eye had been liquified on the battle field and were now damaged beyond repair. According to Unohana Taicho, Isane's efforts to preserve her face had been nothing short of astonishingly miraculous. Unohana had even indicated that it was almost certain that she could not have done any better. Even still, the half of her face that Q had not bored out with a sword was even worse-looking. The wasp venom had completely destroyed the collagen in her face and broken down the muscular and skin tissue; Isane had kept her face from literally falling off by fusing it to the underlying bone and tendons and then steam-folding it to extract the venom.

The result was that half of Hinamori's face looked shrunken and sunken; with the skin being awfully itchy and dry. Hinamori wore a Phantom-of-the-Opera style mask that was internally coated with a salve rich in collagen, proteins, moisturizers, anti-inflammatory steroids and growth hormones. It was such a relief from the skittering, torturous itching that Momo never took it off. No matter that it made her look like an arrancar - the anguish without it was impossible.

Supposedly, her face would eventually grow back; although the skin would always be dry and she would likely scratch at it. For the meanwhile, Hinamori doubted she would ever be able to show it in public. On the other hand, her hair was sort of growing back in; so anything was impossible. Momo would likely shave it almost bald, though; as the scar that ran along her scalp didn't have hair and it looked very much out of place to have tufts growing around it; creating an awful gorge of scar tissue. Better to keep it close cropped, where the gap in her hair growth wouldn't be as pronounced. She considered the possibility of a hairpiece but thought that she wasn't quite ready to admit defeat and take the plunge,.

"See you, Rangiku-chan," Momo said softly, and then with a heavy heart, departed from the room. As she passed through the threshold of the door, she wished she could go see Morgan. He would tell her she was okay, make her feel like she was okay, convince her that everything was going to be okay. Yet she had made a promise to herself not to go rushing over there. She knew he missed her, and she missed him - but she had to take some time to get herself figured out. She was messed up in the head and needed some time to get back on track.

On the way down the hall of the 4th division's long term care unit, Hinamori spied a nameplate by a door to one of the rooms. It stood out to her. The name 'Kira Izuru' still stuck out to her.

Debating for a moment whether or not she should go in, she hesitated. From what she had heard, Kira was currently in an unresponsive psychological state. It was a pretty far fall for anyone, even him. Momo considered going in to see him, even if only in the hope that he would respond somehow.

Yet her heart blackened burnt coal for him, and Momo turned away. Let him rot, she felt. Somebody else can be his hero.

-:-

_**6**_

Byakuya peered in on a sleeping Hisako. She was always a marvel to him. It stupefied him to see Hisana and Rukia's face on such a tiny girl.

"Good morning, child."

She yawned, but then went wide-eyed in surprise. It was rare for her father to awake her in the morning; normally it was Kainaino-san, or on occasion, Kaa-sama. "Good morning, Tou-sama."

"Out of bed and to the lavoratory, Hisako-chan."

"Yes, Tou-sama, of course," she answered with alacrity. If her father was here to wake her, then there must have been something important going on. She hurried to relieve herself and wash the sleep out of her eyes. When she returned, she found one of her yukatas waiting for her. Hisako doubted that Tou-sama had fetched it himself - this would not have been something a man of his stature should do - but she did not see anyone else in the room.

"Dress, child, and then join me for breakfast."

"Yes, Tou-sama," she answered respectfully. Intelligent as she was, she inferred from his use of 'me' that Kaa-sama would not be joining them. This was unusual. "If I may ask, will Kaa-sama be eating with us?"

"She is sleeping," Byakuya explained. "She had most difficult matters to address and did not sleep well. We are going to let her rest."

"Yes, Tou-sama."

Byakuya wondered if he could ever get Hisako to treat him with a more casual air; to take him off of his pedestal. To know him like he wanted to know his own father, even though he had never gotten the chance. With his limited interaction with young children, Byakuya thought very hard as to what Kurosaki Yuzu might do. She was often his metric for all things... 'cutesy'. "You must smile at breakfast," he added, well-intentioned with an attempt to sound tender, but it inevitably came out as a semi-stern order.

"Tes, Tou-sama," Hisako answered graciously, puzzled with his request but trying hard not to show it.

Unsatisfied with his poor pedagogy but nonetheless accepting it was the best he could do for the moment, Byakuya left. No matter how much he attempted to get closer to his daughter, under no circumstances ever would he diaper her. That was what he paid Kainaino for.

-:-

_**7**_

The Nikayui majordomo answered the door and found himself highly unprepared for company. At the door was the Esteemed Princess Banzo Ichihime-no-kimi, and had he known she was coming, he would have bothered to put on something nicer than his cleaning clothes. She was wearing an ornate purple kimono with a yellow obi and cherrywood sandals, with her hair in a tight braid and her arms cuffed in a material that the majordomo could only described as a majestic black rainbow. "Come in," he nearly stuttered, greatly displeased by the timing. "My apologies, we did not know you were coming - if we had known, we would have prepa-"

"Silence," she ordered kindly and friendly, although the intent was clear enough to not be disobeyed. "It is my impolite manners to show up unannounced. Do not fret, for you have not erred." He began to speak, but Ichihime silenced him with a crafty look of devious intent. He was smart enough to refrain. "Is Adame-kun here?"

"He is, uh, in the workshop; rather untidy and -"

"Nonsense," she dismissed, cutting him off. "Bring him to me."

"If I may ask you to wait for him to prepare himself for your company - "

"Nonsense," she reiterated, this time her glare cutting off any hope of dismissal.

Nervous and unsettled, the majordomo complied. "Yes, Your Majesty, I will bring him right away. If I may show you to the parlor - "

"No need, I will wait here," she insisted. "Bring Adame-kun to me. Enough dilly-dallying, good sir."

He made haste, and only moments later, a very grimy and underdressed Adame came into the hall with his antsy majordomo at his heels. He was wearing peasant's clothes; a brown tunic with work pants and an apron filled with a myriad of tailor's instruments - scissors, needles, threads, tape measures, razors, clamps, pins.

"My lord," Adame said in surprise. "Ichihime-sama, my apologies; had I known - "

With Adame, Ichihime felt no need for pretense. "Kami, what is it with you people? I love you no matter how you look."

That statement caught Adama by surprise, but his smooth charisma was not abandoned for long. With a wide smile, he caught it just as it was intended. With an amused and skeptical raise of his brow, he pressed his fullest charm. "Was that an impossible confession by the indomitable Banzo Ichihime-sama, or was it two?"

"Three," she replied, her sexy smirk catching Adame's amused squint.

"Three?" he challenged. "Might I ask what deems the third?"

"Come now, Adame-kun, I can't explain everything, can I? I would lose some of my natural mystique." She was silent for a moment afterwards, noticing him trace his eyes up and down her figure. A fire stoked in her chest. "You admire, I see," she teased suggestively.

"I do," he answered. "As always." Although at the moment, Ichihime-sama looked rather luscious. She wore purple rather well. "You tease all too well."

With her eyes narrowed to a tantalizing, sultry glance, she soaked in his comparative dumbfoundedness for a moment. "You should return to work, Adame-kun; the workshop's elves undoubtedly need their grandmaster."

Adame chuckled. "Was that the only purpose of your visit? To flaunt your beauty in my home at your whim?"

"Why of course," she returned, her tone indicating that she was playing with him. "I did not think my fiance would mind. I was most positive he wanted to be sure I came back in one piece, after all."

"He is glad of that, most assured."

Ichihime's smirk grew ever more enticing. "You're staring, Adame-kun."

His smile stole her away. "And do you mind?"

"Absolutely not," Ichihime laughed cheerily, but then fell to his charms. She couldn't keep this up for much longer; there was only so long she could perpetuate the sexual tension without running out of witty things to say. (Running out of things to say somehow only happened with him.) "Go on, change. I have decided that we would be wise to discuss some more formal arrangements with your father. Dates and places, guests and the like. I have no patience for doing these things other than face-to-face."

"Ah," he laughed. "The truth escapes."

"Go on, rascal," she laughed, and allowed Adame's majordomo to sit her for tea while Adame cleaned up.

-:-

Komamura Saijin hugged his son Kitsune tightly. He was grateful to have his son - and even more grateful that after his recent battle, his son still had a father.

-:-

_**8**_

Shunsui sat at his desk, nursing his headache with a large bottle of sake. It had already begun. _Lisa, Lisa, Lisa._ Dear Kami, this is going to be impossible.

-:-

Toshiro was out in the Rukongai. He had come for some old memories; stopping to see the house where he and Momo had grown up with Obaasan. It was reinhabited now by other Rukongai citizens; squatters who must have claimed it after it was vacant when Obaadan passed away.

Unsure of what was bothering him, he passed through the streets. Children scattered left and right from his presence; they were frightened of him. He was a shinigami; it was a common reaction. Nonetheless, it made him feel like he had made a mistake to come here.

He thought of Karin. He missed her already, and it hadn't even been a week. Toshiro also couldn't get his mind off of one of their most recent conversations. It had left him with an uncomfortable feeling.

Marriage, he thought. He wondered if it was the issue he made it out to be. For all he knew, Karin wasn't going anywhere; but he felt somehow that, without a formal commitment, she might some day leave him. He was no fool; his youth was a profound problem in their relationship. It was something far more difficult for her than him; which is why he felt a need to impose some greater construct around what they had now.

Marriage, he sighed. With it comes other issues. And then what? Children?

He did not know if he wanted children. On the one hand, he did - he would have liked to have a son. Why, he wasn't sure. Hitsugaya Toshiro was a genius, but he was highly inarticulate when it came to explaining how he felt about things. Nonetheless, he envisioned that one day, he would adopt a son. Maybe even one of these limpid little goonies that were so afraid of him. Yes, maybe he, a shinigami, would come into the Rukongai and find a son; take him to Shinou Academy and raise him as though he had been part of his family all along.

Just like Matsumoto did for him.

Wiping away a rare tear, Toshiro continued his walk through the Rukongai. Old memories were old, but they were precious.

-:-

_**9**_

Renji was at the bar, alone.

Again.

-:-

Hikifune Yoshino sat quietly, looking at the television. At the moment, she had set aside her typical anime indulgence and was instead watching old family movies of her cousin, Hikifune Miyako. Miyako, like her older sister Kirio, had been one of the premiere experts in the family martial art. Yoshino's older sister was, like all Hikifunes, a talented swordwoman in her own right; but not so much that Yoshino could learn from her. Muertara didn't use her sword for a living as a shinigami; she was a diplomatic envoy that wore her sword as a status symbol. Yoshino actually fought hollows; her relationship with her katana was not an academic one.

With great attention to detail, Yoshino studied how Miyako twisted and moved. Some techniques, like the Hikifune style's signature backhand buzzsaw, Yoshino had already nearly mastered; at this point it was a matter of continued practice. Some aspects, like Miyako's completely ambidextrous skill, would take decades for Yoshino; who still needed great work on her left-handed form. There were other specialized maneuvers, though, that Yoshino were trying to decipher from Miyako's practice of the art. She always seemed to know exactly where her opponent would strike; her movements were always so precise - just enough to avoid being struck. Yoshino wondered how anyone could be so deductive. She wanted to know how Miyako did it.

Muertara eventually passed by, surprised that Yoshino was giving up her otaku time for training videos. Muertara's distaste for Yoshino's enrollment in the Gotei 13 was not a secret. She had no desire to see her sister meet the same fate as most of the family. Contrary to popular belief, Muertara loved her sister very much. She was the only close family Muertara had. "You're going to get killed one of these days," she muttered.

"I know," Yoshino shrugged. She was a Hikifune. She expected as much.

"That means you're going to die," Muertara reiterated, somewhat surprised by Yo-chan's casual answer. "You realize that, right?"

"With honor," Yoshino jibed back. While she didn't think Muertara's decision to stay out of Gotei 13 was dishonorable, she did think it was a bit cowardly.

Muertara tched, but let it go. "Say, you got a phone call."

"Hmm? From who?"

"Whom," Muertara corrected, waiting for Yoshino to roll her eyes (she did). "Ryogi Shiki-dono invited you to her manor this evening to celebrate her recent promotion to the seated officer ranks of the 3rd division."

Yoshino was delighted to hear. "Really?" I'm surprised. I only just met her recently at the Session for Aristocracy.

"Apparently," Muertara shrugged. "I didn't know you were so close."

Neither did I. "No, but she's cool. I could see us being good friends."

"She's much older than you, isn't she?"

"Do you have a point?"

"Whatever, Yo-chan," Muertara said, not really caring. "Have a good time."

"I _will_, thank you very much," Yoshino answered with a touch of confrontation. It was nice to stick it to her sister - see, I have places to go, too, you know. And hopefully, Jun-Jidano and Muertara will be asleep by the time I come home. If I have to listen to them again, I won't wait for the hollows to get me; I'll kill me myself.

-:-

_**10**_

Returning to Sereitei, Toshiro felt cathartic. He felt cleansed. It had been good to breathe the outside air; to remember.

At his desk, he resumed the mountains of paperwork. Even though she never helped him with it, his emotion returned; stronger than before. Toshiro missed Matsumoto terribly. The ache in his soul was profound. He had avenged her, but it was little comfort. Her loss was monumental.

-:-

Adame and Ichihime were drinking tea, waiting for Adame's father to return from the workshop.

"There is something I realized we did not discuss, Adame-kun, that we should bring into the open without delay."

"I suppose you are to confess to me that you have decided to take up the bagpipes," he jabbed, loving how she seemed to make such big deals out of nothing.

"Heaven slay me should I ever suggest it," Ichihime laughed. "Actually, the matter is with respect to children."

"Yes," he said. "Indeed. We must have lots. Oodles of them."

That surprised her. Obviously, as one of seven, it was natural for him to be open to the idea of having many children, but his candid answer still struck her by surprise. "Really? You agree?"

"Well, if I may be brash and speak truth to power - "

_"Tawake,"_ she interjected with a laugh, poking at him. He loved to tease her about her noble stature; she found it equally endearing.

" - then it is altogether obvious that you will need to sire children to provide a future for your house, and the more there are the better off your state of affairs will be."

"And you? Your opinion does not come into this equation? Do you not have a say?"

"Of course I do, and as I currently find you irresistible, there will be little to restrain me from commencing with such a fine, noble task."

Ichihime laughed. "You charms are insufferable," she teased as she tossed a crumpled-up napkin at him. "Always an insatiable flirt."

"Ah, but you like me that way."

"I do," she admitted with a smile, and resumed drinking her tea. Adame's father Tesho was coming, so it was time to return to business.

-:-

_**11**_

Hisagi entered the tent. "I'm here to see Lady Merrangue."

The receptionist was, again, someone whom he didn't recognize; and thus he expected her dismissal. "She's occupied at the moment, may I assist you with another escort for the time being?"

"I'm not here for escort," Shuuhei mumbled. "I'm here to see my mother."

The receptionist's eyes went wide. "Oh, so you must be the infamous Hisagi Shuuhei?" she asked, eyeing him up and down. "Quite a package," she smirked. "Care to take a ride with me instead?"

Shuuhei was not in the mood. Annoyed, he shouted into the back. "Hey Ma, you in?"

"Coming, dear!" he heard her say from behind there somewhere. The receptionist didn't seem to care that she had been rebuffed, and resumed doing whatever she had been doing before.

After a few minutes, Shuuhei was being summoned into a back room, where he properly greeted his mom with a big hug and a bag from Nan-chan.

"Shuu, I thought I told you that I ain't gonna take money from you," she insisted. "And besides, you delivered the goods already - you don't need my help anymore."

"Relax, Ma, it's just a piece of Nan-chan's homemade chocolate cake. She didn't want me to come empty-handed."

"Hah ha, I love that girl," Hisagi Merongaka cheered as she opened up the bag and took out the mouth-watering dessert. "So what's doing?"

Shuuhei debated whether or not he should explain the whole bankai thing to his mom. In the end, though, he decided it would be above her head. "I just wanted to stop by. Something happened on a mission the other day, and I just wanted to come and say thank you."

"For what?" Merongaka asked with a mouth full of cake. "By the way, this is _goooood._"

"It _is_," Shuuhei agreed. "Nah, I just wanted to say thank you. Thanks for pushing me to follow my dreams, telling me I would make it some day. Telling me never to give up and that I could go places. 'Cause I did, Ma. I've lived up to the dreams you told me not to let go of, and so I just owed you a thanks."

"Aw, son," she began to cry, and wrapped him up in a big hug. Shuu got makeup and chocolate fudge smeared all over his face and crumbs down his uniform, but it didn't matter; he was happy to be able to make Ma proud. "Always knew you'ld do good."

"Anyway, that's it. I got stuff to do, but I wanted to take out some time to stop by and say hello."

"You're sweet, Shu-dear. Thanks so much for coming. You really make me proud."

"Thanks, Ma."

"Well now, scram. Go on, you've got stuff to do, so go do it. And when you get home - "

Hisagi began to chuckle. He knew what was coming. "I know, Ma - "

_" - give that nice girl of yours a good long fuck!"_

-:-

Nanao looked up from her book when Shuuhei came in. "Did she like the cake?"

"Yep," he answered. "She also said it was time for you to make her some grandkids."

"Oh, c'mon, that's _not_ what she said, and you know it," Nanao laughed at him.

"Eh, I'm paraphrasing," he said, scooping Nanao up off the couch and taking her into the bedroom.

"Hey, wait, it's three in the afternoon!"

"So?"

"I have plans tonight!"

"When?"

"Six."

"Okay, fine. Then just a quickie."

Nanao conceded. A 'quickie' suggestion from Hisagi Merongaka would take about two hours. She would just have to deal.

-:-

**_12_**

Urahara Kisuke yawned. The 12th could be so boring sometimes. He missed Jinta and Ururu's antics; they had always kept things lively. Thankfully, he didn't need to stay in the 12th most of the time; he left that work up to his vice captain. Unfortunately, she had the night off.

-:-

Rantao Kiku held up the dress. "What do you think?"

Nanao shrugged. "Nah."

Annoyed, Rantao put the dress back on the rack and searched through the others. "Thanks for coming."

"Sure," Nanao said. To be honest, she was glad she had been invited. It made for a great excuse. Hisagi was wonderful, but he could also be exhausting. Saya was still sobering up from the two bottles of vodka she had soaked up, and Nanao had felt the hangover.

Rantao held up another frumpy-looking frilly mess. "No, right?"

"Oh Heaven, you need help, don't you," Nanao laughed.

"I would say that I have the fashion awareness of a dolphin crossed with a zebra."

"I can tell," Nanao laughed. "How about this one?"

Kiku looked at the slinky number Nanao had pulled out. It was the kind of thing Nanao would wear - sleek, short, with a high-cut front but a scandalously low-cut back. "I don't know..."

"C'mon, you have to take chances," Nanao insisted. "Papa will like it."

That might be true, but Kiku honestly thought she would freeze in the thing. "I think I could do a scoop-neck, but the open back isn't me."

"Fair enough," Nanao mused. "How about this?"

Rantao looked at the green dress with possibility. It was sleeveless satin, with a decorative wrap in the front and a flattering cut. "I like it, but don't you think it's too formal?"

"Hmm... I guess you're right."

"What about this?"

Nanao looked at the burgundy velvet and dismissed it out of hand. "Clashes with your hair."

Rantao inspected a lock of her chestnut hair against it, and reluctantly agreed. "I feel like I'm not going to find anything here," she sighed.

"We'll find something," Nanao encouraged.

Rantao hesitated. "...You know, I'm really grateful that you came with me."

Nanao knew where this was going but played it casual. "Sure. No problem."

Kiku, who was prone to put her foot in her mouth, followed her typical game plan: cramming her toes down as far as they could go. "The whole stepmom thing - "

"Oh, _get off_ it," Nanao dismissed, annoyed beyond belief and wanting to be pissy about it. "For Hell's sake, we're cool."

Rantao gave a meek smile. She was going to say something, but this time she caught herself. "How about this?"

Nanao rolled her eyes and stuck her finger in her mouth in a classic gag gesture. Rantao was not going to be able to swing that orange and yellow mess. "C'mon, I'm taking you somewhere else."

Kiku felt a wave of relief, even though she didn't know why. "Lead the way."

-:-

_**13**_

Kiyone finally returned to the 13th division captain's pavillion. She had slept here for so many years, back when she had been taking care of Jushiro, that she felt as though she had never really left.

She took the lid off of the box she had brought, and looked at the belongings she had brought. There, for the first time, Kiyone donned a captain's haori; removing it from the box and unfolding it with awe. She thought she would have been proud and accomplished and full of herself, but to be honest, it seemed out of place on her when she looked in the mirror. For over a century, this had been her husband's division. It was these halls in which giants had stood: Kaien Shiba, Miyako Shiba; Kuchiki Rukia and now the new Soutaicho, her husband Ukitake Jushiro. It was hard for her to feel like top dog here; even though she had been a 3rd seat of the largest division in the Gotei 13.

Feeling like she had a lot to live up to, Kiyone removed several pictures from the box and placed them on her desk. One was a picture of her, Jushiro, Isane, and Hanataro from Isane's wedding. Another was a picture from Kuchiki's wedding, Rukia-sama all majestic in her red bridal kimono and gold obi. There was another picture, one that had been widely disseminated to members of the 13th after their death - a photo of Kaien and Miyako, smiling together, as the leadership of the 13th. The last picture she removed, however, was one that she felt most connected to.

Placing it in front of the others, Kiyone sat down in the captain's chair, at the captain's desk, in her captain's haori, in the captain's pavillion. Staring at the picture, she wondered what she was going to do. She was a captain with no vice captain, no 3rd seat, and 4th and 5th seats whom she knew did not deserve either of the open positions.

Her old face, young and childlike, laughing and goofy in the picture, did not give her any answers. Fortunately, that picture was also of her best friend, Kotsubaki Sentaro. Whatever Kiyone needed to do to run the 13th, she was going to make that smiling Kotsubaki proud. She owed him that.

-:-

Rukia set down Hikaru next to her in bed. Because Hikaru couldn't cry, Rukia had the baby sleep with her; hoping that her motherly sense would feel Hikaru fidgeting. Rukia was used to being exhausted, so waking up several times a night to feed or change the baby was no big deal. In fact, she cherished it.

Hikaru seemed happy to be there, and so Rukia prepared to go to sleep. She wondered what kind of child Hikaru would be - would she be like Rukia, or like Ichigo? Like a blend of both, or completely different altogether? These things were impossible to know. Rukia had never known her own parents; and it was difficult to say that either Nii-sama or Jii-sama had been like a father to her. Say nothing of a mother - Rukia had never had one at all.

She yawned. It wasn't late yet; but Rukia was tired. The 3rd division was a mess; she still needed to find a vice captain. According to Isane, Izuru Kira was now permanently wheelchair bound. On top of that, he was in such a depressive state that he was practically catatonic. His discharge papers were pending Rukia's signature. She was loathe to sign them - it was a shame for him to end up this way - but she had no choice. Her division was in shambles. The 3rd seat wasn't particularly competent; he had been appointed by Gin. It was apparent to her that the 3rd seat's appointment was so that Gin had a suck-up around to dump stuff on. Rukia's plan was to reassign him to less cushy work and hope that he decided it was time to retire, so she could fill the seat with someone who could actually kill a hollow.

Deciding that she needed to sleep rather than dwell on work, she shut her mind down, kissed Hikaru, and blew out the candles next to her bed.

-:-

**_KC_**

Nanao handed Rantao a low-cut tight rose dress. "Try this on."

Kiku was skeptical, but tried it on anyway. When she came out of the fitting room and looked in the mirror, she had a change of heart. "Wow," she said, surprised at her own appearance. "I - I actually look really good in this, Nanao-san."

"What can I say, I got the magic," Nanao chirped with a smile. Hanging out with Rantao-san had been fun. Save for the one awkward moment (there was always one with Rantao-san), Nanao felt that the older woman was just anxious about finding her place. Once she felt more or less comfortable, her personality came out a lot more. And although Nanao would have thought it weird to be out alone with Rantao, she decided that she was just going to have to get used to it. Papa liked Rantao-san, and it seemed like she was going to be sticking around. As far as Nanao was concerned, that was saying something - for both of them.

-:-

"So," Ichihime began, now that their business with Tesho was complete. He had left them to continue their little date in the Nikayui Manor's parlor. "Back to the subject of children."

"Yes?"

"Promise me that we will never name our children something as pompous as _'My #1 Princess'_."

Adame laughed at Ichihime's distaste with her own name's origin. "I imagine we will choose a variety of eccentric titles, but I do think we will be more discreet than that."

Ichihime mused out loud. "You should know that I had always wished my parents had named me 'Sarashina'. I do very much like that name. It would have been so much more dignified."

"A marvelous choice, I concur. Perhaps we could use that, if you are so inclined."

"We would need a daughter first."

"Of course, of course."

"But, my dear Adame-kun, what if we only have sons?"

He gazed his eyes upwards and clasped his hands in mock namaste. "Heaven help us," he laughed.

-:-

**_Q_**

Orihime was really happy. It was the first date night she and Ishida were having in a long time.

Bit by bit, she was getting over the cancer. Recovery was slow, but every day, she felt better. Things were never going to be the same - but they might just be fine anyway.

-:-

**_H_**

Tatsuki put the clipboard of medical records back down at the hanger off the foot of the patient's bed. As she was leaving, a visitor entered. He was a young man with dark, shaggy hair; high cheekbones and tall with a lean build. Cute. "Excuse me," he asked, "are visiting hours still open?"

"Yes, for another forty-five minutes."

"Great, thanks," he smiled. She made to leave, but his curiousity aroused a question, she paused to give him the chance to ask it. "What is that you have hanging from your belt? Is that a keychain or some weird kind of hospital pass?"

Tatsuki looked down to her Division Black badge (not that she had an official shinigami representative rank anymore, but it was still useful as a hollow detection device). "...You can see this?"

"...Yeah, it's cool - I was wondering where you got it. Uh, sorry, I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Ryu. Tabaki Ryu."

Tatsuki was amused by his fairly fluid attempt to hit on her. She'd been hit on a lot, but picking up a nurse while she's on shift takes a certain blend of guts, gall, and charisma. "Arisawa Tatsuki," she introduced herself. "I don't think I've seen you here before."

"Well, I came from out of town to see my aunt here," he gestured to the sleeping patient. "I hear she's not doing so well."

Tatsuki was polite. "Most people in the oncology ward aren't having the best of days."

"Yeah, I hear that," he sighed.

Tatsuki looked at him with amusment, as he seem to be flustered. She knew he was trying to figure out a sensitive way to get her number, but that asking here and now would have been totally inappropriate. She admired his tact - it was rare for a cute guy to have some manners. "Visiting hours are over at six," she said politely. "I'll be at the nurse's station if you need me." With a pregnant pause, she added (with just enough of a perceptible suggestion), "My shift ends at six, though."

"Good to know," he answered with a smile. "I'll see you around, then."

"Mm-hmmm," she replied, and left Ryu-san with his aunt. Checking her rotations schedule, she decided to take a bathroom break. A little last-minute primping could never hurt.

-:-

**_HM_**

Tia Hallibel looked upon the rumble with utter boredom. "So bothersome."

Neliel shrugged. "If you want to replenish the ranks of the vasto lorde, this is probably the best way to do it."

Hallibel rolled her eyes. A gladiatorial competition among the adjuchas - winner eats all - may have been the best way to produce new vasto lorde, but in truth, the only reason Hallibel had agreed to the idea was that inevitably a large number of adjuchas would be slaughtered, reducing the burden on the shinigami and reaffirming the pact of the Secret Peace. "As if my kingdom needs another pillar of iconic tragedy."

Neliel, whose aspect of death when she had been among the espada was curiousity, shrugged. "You never know. You might actually like the new subjects."

Hallibel thought of Jezebel, the only vasto lorde she had ever had any kind of sincere concern for. She was concerned for Gantennbaine and even more for Neliel, for their arrancar qualities made them far more human and thus worthy of respect. The rest of the vasto lorde were to be corralled and controlled; no more. As long as they followed the Secret Peace, she could care less. Unlike Barragan before her, she had no need for bragging and posturing. The less she had to interact with the vasto lorde - even Jezebel - the better.

A purple hollow at the center of the mass rumble roared and unleashed some type of spike from its shoulder, except that the spike had a mouth on the end of it that began chomping away at an oncomer. Neliel took notice. "That one looks like he might have potential."

"They can all be sacrifices to purgatory for all I care."

"What's into you?" Neliel asked. "You're such a party pooper today."

Tia raised an eyebrow at her, as if to ask if she was ever one for a festive spirit.

"More than usual," Neliel insisted sarcastically.

Tia wasn't interested in discussion. "Find Gantennbaine and tell him to fetch me something to drink."

"You know he hates being your butler."

"Then I can hand him over to the shinigami so that he can have a chance at a better life," she countered darkly. "In the meanwhile, he will serve whatever purpose I ordain for him."

Neliel laughed. "You know he tolerates it only because - "

"You dare not say it, Neliel, or I will make _you_ bed him."

"As if," Neliel laughed, rolling her eyes. She couldn't best Tia in a fight, but it wouldn't be pretty. "Please, that hair is just not my style."

"Cease this discussion, Neliel. It does not amuse me."

Neliel sighed. "Oh, you're no fun. I'm going to go find Jezebel. At least she likes to do more than sit around and look gloomy."

"Begone, then," Tia dismissed. With a touch of sympathetic admittance, she added, "Perhaps I prefer solitude for the moment."

The green-haired arrancar understood; Tia could be like that at times. "Sure," she said cheerily, letting their little spat flow under the bridge and deciding that Tia was just having a bad day. "See ya! I'll send Gantennbaine over with some gillian juice."

Hallibel nodded and shrugged Neliel off with a wave of her hand. To her, Hueco Mundo was beginning to feel more like a burden than a deserved inheritance. Tia was paradoxically proud to be a hollow, yet she had no taste for the life of one. Her cannibalistic hunger was the only true thing that preserved her attachment to this dreary palace - the menos breeding grounds were her primary source of nourishment. Yes, she cared for her three friends here, but those relationships were not predicated on her rulership. Gantennbaine and Jezebel were tied to her for their survival; Neliel was actually a close confidant and trustworthy companion - the only true friend she had here. Nonetheless, she was King.

A king without a crown, she was not; but that did not mean she needed to wear it atop her head all the time.

-:-

_Many decades later_

Morgan looked down at his body. He had remembered this sensation; it was one he had experienced over his many incarnations. He was in Washington DC's VA hospital, where he had been given the best care a national hero could be given; but there must be an end to all good things, and so now he knew the time had come.

"Hey, Sinner."

It was a voice he knew well. She loved to tease him. "Good evenin', Momo-san. Yoos lookin' well."

Hinamori ignored him. She looked the same as she always did - disgustingly hideous. "Missed you," she answered. "Finally kicked the bucket this time around, I see."

"Ah guesso."

"When was the last time I saw you?"

"Few yeers back, I's thinks."

"Your ticker was better then."

"My's ticker's fines now," he laughed, thumping the Chain of Fate still attached to his chest. "I's guess its starts werkin' agains, juss fer the sake o' noss-tal-juh."

Momo smiled and kissed the old man on the cheek. It had been many years since they had any kind of physically intimate relationship, but as far as they were both concerned, they were still lovers, no matter how rarely they saw each other. "I'll keep an eye out for you," she promised. "It won't be easy to find you."

"I's prolly won't remember much," he admitted, taking her battle-worn hand in his old, leathery fingers. "Tha mem'ries don'ts really cumm back 'til I's get olda."

"I'm sure."

"Anna yoos knows I's gonna look diff'rent, anna soun' diff'rent, too."

Momo laughed. "Either way, I'm sure of two things - one, that you'll be handsome, and two, that no one will ever be able to understand a single blasted word that comes out of your mouth."

"Heh heh heh," he chuckled, "I's bets yoos right on tha lass' one."

She sighed heavily. Momo had always been detached from him; she had been detached from everything for so long. Still, this wasn't easy. She would really miss him. Even so, she was prepared and ready. Another twenty years or so, she would start looking for him again. Maybe she could bribe Urahara or something to help her; she figured she would find a way when the time came. Yet now - well, now was the time to start him on his way to youth again. There is a time for all good things. "It's time, Teddy Moses."

"Yoos ain't called me thats fer a long time, Sunrise."

"Fair enough," Momo smiled, although it was hard to do so. "Love you, Morgan."

"Love you, too, Ms. Hinamori Ma'am."

Momo unsheathing Zankukoseishin, preparing to fulfill the promise she had made to him. In Momo's opinion, seemed like an unfair way to send this saint on - he deserved a better sending than what she could offer, but he had insisted. It was his right to choose his Goddess, and while Momo admired him for honoring her, she did not feel up to the task. Nonetheless, the old man was someone she loved, and she would do as he wished. Although her long lost Tobiume would have been a better instrument, Zankukoseishin was hers; and thus she understood that in his eyes it was all the same. With a reminder to her zanpakutou to be tender, she showed him the konso symbol on the end. "See you next time, Morgan."

"Goodbye, Momo."

She pressed the symbol to his forehead, and upon removing it, gazed with a bittersweet smile at the blue insignia. With one last sage smile, the body of Morgan began to disintegrate, the blue sparks of soul separating as they traveled on to their next destination.

-:-

But Momo and Morgan's peaceful ceremony turned to a fit of confusion as the sparks began to sputter and shift black, and instead of swirling heavenward, they began to flush down in a rapidly desceding vacuum.

"Morgan?"

"Momo?"

"Morgan - _Morgan!_"

With a sucking twist, the blue glow faded to a dull dreary black, and dread smacked Hinamori in the face as she watched his hair - an old, thin gray still speckled with darker shades of salt and pepper - began to flare into a haunting bleach white. "No," Hinamori whispered, her heart seizing in her throat, her breath frozen in in her lungs and her blood so chilled it felt like it was flowing backwards. "No, no, no - no - "

With a confusion and uncertainty, Morgan flailed; his elderly years reducing his ability to move with any dexterity at all. "Momo! What - what's happening? I - I don't - "

"No - _no! Morgan! NOOOOOO!_"

With a blinding flash, his eyes - those eyes that found Momo's soul when it could not be found - burst in a flash of blinding orange, beaming a pumpkin glow that had Momo's panic in a disastrous, catastrophic torment of anguish. _"NOOOOOOOO!"_

With soul-rending horror, Momo searched desperately for his soul ribbon. It was there, but it was not what she had expected to find. Once a shining, gleaming, brimming angelic white - it was now rapidy transforming, from silver to gray to coal to a dark and midnight black. _"No,"_ she whimpered. "No, Morgan, no - no, _no, no -_ "

_"Hinamori-san!"_

Her face scrunched in sorrow as the vortex began to close. Her heart was punctured with the blackest, most irreversible doom and the deepest abyss of the most tragic sorrow. "I'm sorry, Morgan. I'm so sorry."

And then he was gone.

Unable to bear it, unable to shoulder it, unable to stomach it, Hinamori threw her arms out in rebellion and screamed towards the sky. _"FATE!"_ she yelled, hoping that the whole goddamn fucking world heard her. _"YOU ARE THE CRUELEST BITCH THERE IS! I HATE YOU! FUCK YOURSELF AND **DIE!**"_

-:-

Moses the Humble awakened in a dark and ashy place. He was in a cavern of some kind, alone with another man who stood before him; dressed in the same tattered cloak. His bore a blue rose over the left breast. He would have asked 'Who are you?', but he found himself incapable of speech.

The man pre-empted his question. "Welcome, Great and Holy Moses," he bowed politely. His accent was a deep, thick English; the most Britannical of Britains that one could ever stumble upon. "I am Colonel Arthur S. Tomaninyre. As is not surprising, you have been judged righteous and sent to serve a contract of servitude as a Judge over Sinners in the Great Realm of Hell."

The newcomer could not even think straight. This was too much to absorb. He had died many a time before, but Hell? Why?

"You know of a man named Jonas," the man continued. "You are here to serve him his due. I believe the two of you have some history."

Jonas? Jonas!

Tomaninyre came down to one knee in order to look the shell-shocked man in the eyes. "I am sorry to say, my dear friend, that he will not be your subject of interest for the majority of your stay."

Why? How long is my stay?

The man sighed a terrible, painful look of grief. "Ten thousand years, my friend. That is what all us saints must serve." With all the weight that the moment demanded, Tomaninyre helped up the heart-shattered new arrival, and taking him by the arm, led him to serve his Fate.

* * *

_I wonder how many of you knew that this was going to happen... **Reviews, please! Please don't skimp on reviews!** We are so close to the end, I really want to hear what you have to say! Last chances to get questions answered! -njx_


	57. Death Last Standing

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

_**Translator's note:** 'Ue-sama' is a term of respect; but its most common usage is to refer to a customer._

_**Author's note:**_

_Thanks to all of you who provided wonderful reviews and commentary. A special thank you to stormcrowley, fading into the background, and laughingspider for their friendship and input. As always, reviews are the best - and questions are open season. I welcome any and all you have - thanks for sticking with me. It's been a great ride._

_With cheers,_  
_-Nathan J_

* * *

**_"There are no such things as fairy tales."_**  
_~Kuchiki Hisako_

**_"Sure there are, Sako-chan. You're just saying that because you haven't read any."_**  
_~Shihoin Zarina_

**_"No - for once, I actually agree with Hisako-san. No happy ending could ever come from something that simplistic."_**  
_~Shiba Kanchi_

**_[Hey, I believe in fairy tales. Why not? A little optimism never hurt anyone.]_**  
_~Kuchiki Hikaru_

* * *

Sheldon Horace Grimworth Jr. wheezed out of the open senkai gate, huffing and puffing with a laborious gasp borne of too many years sitting on his ass. Thankful to be free from the gurgling plum chaos of the Dangai Precipice World, he fell to his knees and sucked in the refreshing, dry warm air of the sunny sky.

The ground looked familiar, and he picked up his head to survey his surroundings. It was nearly deja vu - a whitewash of brick and clay with tiled roads; the familiar red-shingled roofs of the Sereitei mazes. In fact, it was so familiar that he even recognized the location - the corridors just beyond the edge of the Central 46 compound.

He wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Instinct told him that it would be wise to use some caution. Hunger told him to find someone and order them to feed him.

"Hey!"

Sheldon looked over his shoulder at a shinigami who was calling him.

"Seize him - and get the fukutaicho here!"

Before Sheldon could even react, he was hauled to his feet by two muscle-men shinigami, and was dragged into what appeared to be some sort of shinigami checkpoint station. It was a simple booth-like structure, but he was tossed in a chair and the door was slammed on him before he had even finished catching his breath.

A moment later, a beefy female shinigami came into the booth. She was tall and broad; just shy of six feet and built like a rugby player. She had wide shoulders, curvy hips stacked on tree-trunk thighs that were surely made of solid muscle, a chunky chest, and heavy arms that even would have looked out of place on a butcher.

She was, at least to Sheldon's eye, highly unattractive. _Exceedingly_ so, in fact, and not just her stocky, curves-in-wrong-places body. Her mess of wavy dark brown hair was held out of her face by a red headband, and her nose was large and unwieldly; set in thick, brick-like cheekbones that gave her a distinctly pugnacious look. Despite this, her intelligent eyes were softer; with a highly feminine quality that was a saving grace for her otherwise tough-as-nails-and-even-uglier presentation. She was basically the youngest-looking hag he had ever seen. No, scratch that - she was too ugly for the word 'hag' to be sufficient.

Even her deep voice was unappealing. "You are hereby charged with unauthorized senkai travel. How do you plead?"

"What?" demanded Sheldon, putting on his Central 46 Supreme Court Judge act. "How dare you accost me? Do you know who I am?"

She grunted like a cop who has heard this before. "Listen, buster, as far as I'm concerned, you could be the tooth fairy. How do you plead?"

"This is preposterous!" he challenged, pointing a finger at her. "You can't arrest me!"

She shoved one of her tattooed, fat-fingered hands right into his chest, pushing his rising body back into the chair. Her vice captain's badge was now visible, and he could see she was from the Sereitei Guard Unit. "Sit down and answer my question, you hooligan, before I decide to hand you over to the 2nd division prison team."

"My name is Konoshima Subentara, and I am a judge in Central 46! I demand to be let go this instant!"

"Is that so?" the woman asked with a chuckle, clearly amused with him.

"You let me go this very moment, or I will have you court martialled the moment I get back to Central 46! And then I shall have you lashed in public!"

"Great, another crazy," the pug-woman muttered. She yanked him out of the chair, spun him around, and slapped handcuffs on him. "I don't know where you came from, but Central 46 hasn't been around for over a hundred years. I'm taking you to lockup for unauthorized senkai entry." She then searched him, confiscating the small zanpakutou he had stolen with him, along with his dime bags of heroin, cocaine, and his bottle of ecstasy pills. "And drug trafficking charges, while we're at it."

If Sheldon hadn't been so used to his position of authority, it could have dawned on Sheldon that he was not in Kansas anymore. However, he was not accustomed to having people say no to him, so he continued to struggle. "Who do you think you are, the Queen of Sheeba?"

The woman harumphed. "Like I haven't heard _that_ smartass remark before," she grumped sarcastically, and then hauled him to his feet and carted him off.

-:-

Hitsugaya looked up from his glass of mint soda. "Thanks for coming."

"Must you invite me here?" Kuchiki asked, sitting down across from him. "The manor would have been more... private."

"I think not," he returned pointedly, "...given the nature of the conversation I wished to have. What's wrong - not classy enough for you?" he smirked smugly.

His company scoffed at him with an irritated scowl. "Nonsense."

"Order something," he offered, gesturing towards the waiter. "On me."

The waiter approached. "What may I serve you?"

"Red wine. Old."

"Burgundy, cabernet, merlot...?"

"Pinot noir."

The waiter paused. "Perhaps I may recommend a syrah?"

"That will suffice."

"Certainly, Ue-sama," the waiter nodded, and made haste to fetch the request.

"So, what is the drama in your saga that we must meet, thick like thieves, upon the backdrop of dark-lit dining?"

"You've been reading Kobayashi again lately, haven't you, Kuchiki?" Hitsugaya grinned smugly. (Again.)

That remark was met with distaste. "I take it you are waiting for my glass."

_"Imbibe and quaff / the soul's desire of drink,"_ he recited, quoting one of the poet's most famous works.

"You have been rather brooding lately," Kuchiki sighed with a grimace, frustrated over the lack of an explanation. Eventually, the waiter returned with a large glass. "Now that we have disposed of the formalities of etiquette, I suggest you commence."

"Impatient?"

"You are rarely so drawn out," Kuchiki countered.

He sighed. "I... need to make a confession of rather... shall we say... monumentally complicated ramifications."

"Unless you have requested my presence in order to spit in my shoe, I cannot imagine it would be of such signficance," Kuchiki said dismissively, citing a biblical reference that Hitsugaya would be certain to deduce, even out of context. "Go on."

He turned his head to the side in a dismissive agreement; no, he was not here for _that_, which he admitted would have been a frightfully awkward question. Not that the thought even presented itself; he was focused elsewhere. "I... well, not quite that messy."

"As I spoke; out with it."

He sighed. Might as well be direct about it. "I am having an affair."

The initial response was nothing more than a skeptical eyebrow raised far above the glass perched on Kuchiki's lips. After a good moment, the glass was set down and the silence broken. "That is an odd choice of language for one who has never married. It is even more peculiar given that the last time you were romantically bound was long ago indeed."

Hitsugaya could not look Kuchiki in the eyes. "True, to some extent."

"You must be intimating that your adultery is not of flesh but rather of cause?" Kuchiki asked insightfully, although in a mildly mocking manner. It was a complete sidestep around what Hitsugaya's last comment had intended to answer. "That is equally challenging, considering that your mistress does not differ in worldview."

His eyes shifted back to level with his company. Of course Kuchiki knew. I should have guessed. "You're dodging the obvious."

"Perhaps," Kuchiki chuckled. "But the matter is of no surprise."

Hitsugaya shook his head, slightly incredulous and slightly marveled. "You have changed so much and yet so little. It never ceases to astound me."

"...I like to think that I preserve the important matters and let the rest fall away to the tide of change."

"Is that a subtle pun," he asked, annoyed, "or are you deliberately poking fun at me?"

Kuchiki laughed. "Now that I realize it, it was an admittedly clever touch of wit, now wasn't it?"

"Ha ha. Ha ha. Ha ha, ha, ha. I almost died laughing."

"So tell me, Hitsugaya-san - will you eventually settle into a permanent domestic arrangement, or will you stay on the lam for the duration of your so-called affair?" Kuchiki teased. "Have you picked out a domicile yet? Perhaps southeast Sereitei, with a nice view of Soukyoku Hill?"

"Oh yeah, I bet the Soutaicho would love that," he answered with a roll of his eyes. "Just the kind of thing to keep all of the unseated officers on their toes, right?"

"Ukitake Soutaicho-sama might tell you to be discreet, but if you informed him of it, I am sure he would consider it both personally and strategically wise to continue. Assuming, of course, that he is not already aware."

"That is an awfully impersonal commentary on my love life."

"He is wise enough to know how not to let business and pleasure mix," Kuchiki dismissed.

Hitsugaya was distracted. "How would your family take it if you ever reconsidered your appetite for the opposite sex?"

Kuchiki withdrew suddenly. "I... I think... not well."

"You're still not - "

"-No," Kuchiki answered definitively. "I am not. Nor will I."

Hitsugaya wanted to challenge that answer, but decided it was not wise. "Anyway, that's all," he shrugged. "...I thought you would protest more."

His restaurant companion paused, and only spoke after great deliberation. "...I have learned to judge people by that which defines their heart, and not let my judgement be clouded by the extraneous. I feel that, given what we have seen, your mistress is even more noble than I; so I have no reason to dissuade you."

"I feel like I've turned my back on the grave," Hitsugaya blurted out, finally letting it off of his chest.

Kuchiki's chest tightened, as the words that wished to flow were jamming up inside and could not depart in a sensible coherence. Finally, with significant hesitation, the words managed to emerge. "This is the land of the dead," Kuchiki whispered. "Death is where everything begins again."

"You are a hypocrite of _epic_ proportions," he retorted, unenthused and unsatisfied.

"Perhaps," Kuchiki admitted with an earnest sigh, but then a clever smirk materialized. "But there is no sense in both of us being wrong. I can be wrong for both of us; how does that sound to you?"

Hitsugaya huffed. "Fair enough," he answered. "But don't expect my guilty conscience to be alleviated."

"And likely why your mistress likes you so much," Kuchiki returned volley. "Misery loves company."

"Cliche," he frowned.

"Cliche; but true. Say hi for me."

He snorted, not believing that Kuchiki would actually be so nonchalant about it. "What do you bring something like her?" he asked parenthetically, just for the hell of it.

"Yourself," Kuchiki answered, thinking silly of him. "What else could you give her that she does not have?"

Hitsugaya shook his head. "You're something else, Kuchiki."

The only remark was a send-off. "Good evening, Hitsugaya-san. Go to your beloved."

"Ah," he sighed in confirmation; admittedly rather relieved. He was never one to understand himself in love matters; and 'beloved' was not the word he would have used - but he supposed it fit. Without another word, he got up, left money for the bill, and walked out.

-:-

"Another whacked-out bozo?" Sheldon heard from the intercom. They were standing before some ominous compound that Sheldon assumed was a jail building, or at the very least some kind of holding cell block.

"A bozo with places to go," the fuggly female lieutenant answered with a snort. "Make sure you get a reiatsu seal on him."

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," the intercom muttered, and with a buzz, the gate opened to reveal another lieutenant; a fact Sheldon deduced from the badge tied across her upper left bicep.

The 2nd division vice captain was, in Sheldon's book, the most exquisitely exotic lady he had ever seen. Her skin - exposed on her arms and face - was the deepest brown he had ever laid eyes upon; it was so dark he could say that she was black and mean it in the most literal sense. Her tawny eyes and perfect white teeth were a stark contrast, but it was her hair that seized his attention. The left half - or, at least, left from his perspective - was a deep sheen of lustrous royal purple. The other side was a light golden blonde, too dark to be platinumish but still rather fair. The blonde half of her head was so different than her skin color that it had a ghostly effect. Her only other adornment was a covered kodachi that hung from a sexy black belt buckled around her divinely sculpted waist. Combined with her lithe, stretchy figure (covered only by a blissfully-tight spandex Onmitsukido uniform, praise-the-lord-so-sweet-it-was) and her ample but not overdone bustline (bless the cold air in here, what a sight to see), Sheldon couldn't resist pondering how good she would be in the sack.

Then she backhanded him across the face. It rattled his skull so hard he thought his head would swivel off. "Stop leering, you hentai."

"Caught him coming through an unauthorized senkai gate," Fuggly Hag Jr. explained, and pushed him through the door. "Had enough drugs on him to dream up a party around him, complete with a mariachi band. Have fun with this one. Thinks he's a Central 46 judge. He wants a lawyer, too."

"One of those, huh? Alright, I'll put him in a high-security cell and call the 5th, see if they can come over for the seal," the hot one mused out loud. "Alright, fatso, get a move on," she insisted, and then she shoved Sheldon down into the main cell block. She was sure to push him by the back of his head, discouraging him to try and steal another glance.

It was tempting, but Sheldon behaved himself. When he got out of here and had his position returned to him, he would order his underlings to bring him the tawny-eyed, perky-spandexed woman and have her clothes ripped off in front of him. Until then, he would just have to let her think that she had the upper hand.

-:-

Shunsui was tired and annoyed. His vice captain had bailed on him again, most likely having another one of his anxiety freakouts. For the life of him, Shunsui never understood why they had to have put him in Death Last Standing. The coveted spot on the elite extermination squad would have been better suited for Abarai's lieutenant, not his. Of course, Shunsui knew that after Hisagi Fukutaicho had been kicked off of DLS for not playing nice with the rest of them, they had decided to put someone who wouldn't stir up trouble. There was no doubt that the 8th division vice captain wouldn't stir up trouble - he was too... "cooperative" for that. Sometimes, Shunsui wondered if they had put his fukutaicho in Hisagi's spot just as a way to stick it to him: your aggressive behavior is causing you to be replaced by one of your primary victims.

Drowning in paperwork, Shunsui wondered what he had done to deserve this. It must have been revenge for the many years he had dumped the forms on his previous lieutenants. Kami sure had a sense of humor.

The door to his office swung swiftly open, nearly startling Shunsui, and Rantao walked in hurriedly. Her face registered total seriousness and mild alarm. Kyouraku was concerned. Apparently, whatever she wanted to tell him couldn't wait until later. "Rantao-san? Everything okay?"

"Shunsui," the 12th division vice captain swallowed.

"What? What is it?"

"I'm... I'm pregnant."

Shunsui gulped. _"AGAIN?"_

-:-

About an hour later, Sheldon could vaguely hear his exotic captor's voice from outside the cell block. "Hey - whatcha doing _here_?"

The tinkling, high-pitched soft voice that answered was hard for him to make out. Something about the 5th not being available. He wasn't sure what that meant.

Moments later, the cell block was opened, and a rail-thin yet elegantly beautiful woman approached. She was in a lacy white maiden's dress and bore a blue cape. A small pewter (?) dagger was tucked through her cotton sash; it was particularly noticeable because of a red opal in the center of the crossguard (or maybe it was actually ruby - he couldn't tell in the dark). When she turned to face his cell, he could see that she had distinctly angular features underneath her fine, silky-straight light blond hair. Her eyes, however, were such a penetrating blue that he almost didn't notice how her ears came to a point.

"I am relieved," Sheldon said, "to see that they have finally sent someone to release me. And so nice of them to send such a beautiful escort."

The slender woman released her reiatsu, and it was so powerful it flattened his lungs and he gasped for air. "You are not of stature to so much as _breathe_ in my direction, much less utter a word from your addled tongue in my presence," she said peacefully and calmly, as though she was reading a telephone book. She repressed it again, and Sheldon gasped for air.

"You shall no more see me as your deliverance than you would wish to dine on the filth and scum that accumulates between the balls of your toes," the tinkle-voiced woman continued, "of which said scum would be an overestimation of your actual entire worth."

Her Japanese was atonishingly arcane; it was plastered with an accent that could only have been a blend between Scottish brogue and medieval Norweigian highbrow. From behind a mask of imperious, almost cruel indifference to his plight, he could see that her only public emotion was either contempt or disdain. Which one it actually was didn't really matter all that much.

"Begone from my sight, you loathesome mildew of a man," she added, and then raised her clenched fist beside her head. With a flick, she snapped it open, and Sheldon felt a hot branding sear into his back. It was over almost instantaneously, however. The shock of the sudden pain, which then vanished equally as suddenly, made him gasp in surprise.

The elfin lady turned on her heel and departed, apparently too bothered with such a trivial task to remain. Apparently, she was _not_ his lawyer. When his lawyer came, he was going to make sure he had the platinum-haired princessa beaten with a cane.

-:-

There was a knock on the apartment door. "C'mon in!" Yoshino called, and the door opened. "Hey, how are you? Good to see you. What's new?"

"Well! I am well! I have most wonderful news," Shiki replied excitedly. She was wearing her often-donned blue yukata rather than her shinigami uniform. "Here!"

Shiki watched as Yoshino moved agonizingly slowly to reach for the letter. It was like watching slow motion on a stop-clock video. "Lost today?" Shiki asked with a haughty smile.

"Oh shut up," Yoshino muttered. "You weren't looking so hot on Thursday when you got whacked - what was it, six times? - either."

Shiki nodded and took pity. "What a nasty zanpakutou, isn't it?" Yoshino was her vice captain's regular sparring partner, but as 3rd seat, Shiki faced off against Constantine and her wielder just as often. Constantine halved the speed of anything it touched, making it an extremely difficult fight to win. There was a reason Kanchi-rin was a fearsome lieutenant. Yoshino's Galesifter was one of the few whose own zanpakutou gave her some ability to work around Constantine's effects, but Yoshino still ended up losing half the time.

If Kanchi-rin was fearsome, then it spoke volumes about how skilled Yoshino-dono was. Aside from Kenpachi Hisagi, Yoshino and Shiki were the only fully ambidextrous shinigami in the Gotei 13, although only Yoshino was naturally so. When she wielded her katana, it was impossible to know which hand of hers was dominant, although Shiki knew from their long history that Yoshino, like Shiki, was right-handed. Once upon a time, Shiki had been able to regularly best Yoshino; but now the Hikifune was clearly the superior. Shiki didn't mind; by now they were closest of good friends more than sparring partners, especially since they had so many responsibilities to their respective divisions.

Yoshino took a good long time to open the envelope and removed an invitation. She read out loud. "With great joy and celebration, we are to pleased to invite you to the most honorable celebration of the highest order, in honor of Ryogi Shiki-sama on the occasion of her - _engagement!_" Yoshino squealed and didn't even bother to read the rest. She slowly reached to give her good friend a hug - Shiki took pity and came in close to embrace her tortoise-speed friend. "Shiki-chan! Congratulations! I'm so happy for you! This is wonderful. To who?"

"Shihoin Pomadora-dono."

Yoshino thought hard. Pomadora...dono? "Wait - is that Shihoin Tokine Fukutaicho's son?"

"Yes," Shiki answered with a smile. "It was Zarina-dono's idea."

"Really? That's wonderful!" Yoshino was thrilled. Shiki had been looking to get married _forever_, and had inordinate difficulty trying to find someone. Yoshino knew that her medical condition was an unfair factor, but that was the way things were. Speaking strictly from nobility's perspective, marrying a Shihoin was quite the way to stick it to all those who had snubbed their noses at Shiki-chan. "How did she come to suggest it?"

"Her family was having just as much trouble finding _him_ an arrangement," Shiki pointed out the obvious. "Even though his mother is a very high-functioning and successful vice captain, autism scares away nearly everyone in the noble families. She realized we likely had similar experiences, and made the logical assumption that we would not be so prejudiced."

"Wow, and it was a good fit? I don't really know anything about him. Is he even in the Gotei 13 at all? Is he cute?"

"He's... plain," Shiki admitted. "...And he has rather dorky-looking glasses. He's not a shinigami, either; as the eldest son he has opted to take over his mother's duties to the House of Shihoin. He mostly manages a lot of the real estate transactions and the grain farming and production. But he's very, very sweet; and wonderfully kind. He's a rather gentle, quiet man, but I've met him now at least six times and I like him very, very much. He seems like he would make a wonderful, devoted husband and a very caring father - along with his brothers, he has helped take care of his mother for many years. It is obvious that he has his priorities in the right order."

"That's some incredible praise," Yoshino commented, a bit taken aback. In true noble fashion, Ryogi Shiki rarely spoke highly of others (except maybe her captain, Kuchiki Rukia-dono). "It sounds like true love already," Yoshino teased. "Otonashi/Kaneda, Mustang/Hawkeye, or is it a classic Romeo/Juliet? Maybe a more muted Sakakibara/Misaki?"

"You otaku nerd," Shiki replied with a roll of her eyes. "Even my father thinks he is a good suitor."

"Hanbo-Horo-Hugo-Harry-Happy-With-Any-Name-dono likes him? Well, then, that's a whole big bucket of win right there," Yoshino needled her with a sassy grin.

"What am I ever going to do with you?" Shiki shook her head with an amused smile. "And what of you? How was your big date?"

Yoshino made barfing noises. "What a prissy shmuck," she grimaced. "If Nee-san ever sets me up with another Kuzaku, I think I'm going to tornado her into Kentucky."

Shiki wasn't really sure what Kentucky was, but understood the sentiment. Shiki had seen Galesifter make a tornado once - and once was enough. "How is Muertara-dono doing?"

"The usual. She and Jun-Jidano-san are still fighting over which family the baby will be in. I'm sure Tara-neesan will win. She usually does. Jun-Jidano-san has a leash on him, much like all Kyourakus do."

Ryogi understood. Both Kyouraku Jun-Jidano and Hikifune Muertara were the head of their respective families. Both wanted to produce a natural heir. Given that the Hikifune Family (often casually referred to as the 5th House) was dwindling - and was prone to die out in the first place - she could understand Muertara-dono's concern. It was the reason that Muertara-dono was lining up suitors to court her sister. Yoshino may have been on the flat side, but she was still an absolute stunner. She had an honest-to-goodness gorgeous-beyond-description face of pure innocence; with almost-black brown hair and crystal-clear twinkling light hazel eyes that seized your attention - so it wasn't hard to find a bunch of high-ranking young noblemen who would jump at the opportunity. "Who does she have lined up for you next?"

"Someone from the Omaeda Family," she winced painfully. "I begged her to contact the Nikayui Family, but she's got some beef with Banzo-no-Kimi that nobody but Tara-neesan understands. Knowing Neesan, it's probably centuries old and no one even remembers what her grudge is about. Anyway, I'm hoping she'll relent soon enough. Any of the Nikayui Boys would be a major step up from the rest of these losers."

"Why don't you just ask Sarashina-dono? I'm sure she would speak to her father if you wanted her to. She could likely find out from Vojiro-dono if any of their cousins are interested."

"Oh, I have. Nikayui Sentao has already expressed interest, and I would love to meet him. But you know how it is. Centuries ago, Cousin Miyako-sama didn't go through the right channels and kicked off a giant shitstorm when she said she wanted to marry Shiba Kaien-dono. Kyouraku Taicho even told me about it once. Don't want that to happen again. Tara-neesan is already a pain in the ass, I don't need her to go double-ass crazy on me. She's knocked up and thus driving everyone up the wall as it is."

"Muertara-dono would be appalled to hear you use such language."

Yoshino laughed. "She can bring it up with my captain. He must be rubbing off on me."

"Abarai Taicho still fantasizing that against all odds, you'll suddenly discover that you have a thing for older men, that he is the only man for you, and that you'll run away with him?"

"Oh shut up, he is not," Yoshino grumbled. Although to be honest, she wasn't quite sure.

-:-

Hisagi hated it when they looked at him funny. "You got a problem, you punk? What are you staring at?"

The shinigami who had cowered in the presence of the violent vice captain sputtered. "N-n-nothing!"

"That's right, you wussy pussy shitlicker!" he shouted in his face, up close and personal like a drill sergeant. "That's right, you're not staring! Otherwise I'll punch your mouth in so hard you'll be puking out your nose, you got that?" A tap on his shoulder interrupted him, and he immediately turned and shouted _"What is it, bootlicker?"_ as aggressively as he could.

Except that he found he was staring at somebody's obi knot. Looking up, he discovered he had just shouted at the 4th division captain's belt. _Oh shit,_ I am _so_ dead.

"Hisagi Fukutaicho," Isane smiled cheerily. "You wouldn't be threatening one of my patients, would you?"

"N-n-n-n-no, ab-ab-absolutely n-n-not," he shuddered.

"That's good to hear," Isane grinned widely. "I wouldn't want to have to evict you from my hospital."

"N-n-no, Ma'am, n-no, that won't be necessary," he said quickly. "I was just going!"

The giant woman with the armspan that could hurl him halfway to the moon patted him on the head. "Then I don't want to keep you. Go on, Hisagi-kun."

Hisagi made for a quick exit. If he was lucky, Isane Taicho wouldn't tell his mother. Isane Taicho could send him halfway to the moon, but Ma could send him to Hell.

-:-

Komamura Kitsune sighed with patience. By now, he had made regular trips here with his best friend, but he only came for support. He himself had no connection to this place.

Makahiro knelt before the tombstones. They were simple; together. In many ways, it was sad; in theory, not all five of them should have been together. Sometimes, though, that was the way things were. As he had once seen a group of humans do in a different cemetery, he took a few stones off the ground. For a shinigami, laying flowers on the grave was impractical - they were not supposed to tamper with any life form in the Land of the Living; and bringing from Soul Society was just too much effort. When he had once seen humans deposit a pebble on top of the gravestone as an indication of their visit, he had immediately adopted the practice. He had been doing it now for over a hundred years, and although many of the pebbles had blown away, the gravesite was littered with them everywhere. Makahiro made sure that, among the oldest tombstones of Karakura Cemetery, these were always kept clean and well-tended; even if he had to do it himself.

He started by placing the largest pebble on his mother's monument, offering a prayer that Kurosaki Karin rest in peace. He then placed a pebble on his uncle's marker for Hikaru-chan, and then on their grandparents' markers. Finally, he placed a stone on Yuzu-obasan's monument. He never really knew her that well; but he always offered a prayer for her just like he did for the others.

Kitsune noted that Makahiro had been more solemn than usual. Makahiro usually made this trip once or twice a year; although he also came when he was particularly confused or stressed or bothered. "What ills you, Hiro-kun?"

Hitsugaya sighed. "I... you wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

Kitsune let out a bellowing chuckle. Even the smallest of laughs that ushered forth from the enormous 7th division vice captain could shake the earth. "I find that hard to believe."

Makahiro hesitated. He and Kitsune had become best of friends for many reasons, family complexity being among them. Kitsune's mother was the bastard daughter of the previous Soutaicho, and his father was - well, an animal. Makahiro's father was likely going to be the _next_ Soutaicho, and was not even all that much older than he was; and his mother had been a human. If there was anyone who would understand unusual family situations, it was Kitsune. "My father dropped a bombshell on me this morning."

"Oh?" Kitsune asked, his eyebrows peaking in piqued curiousity.

"Yeah," Makahiro sighed. He was so conflicted about this, he didn't even know if he could voice it. "He wanted to tell me that he's been seeing someone. For a long time already."

"...That's hardly difficult to digest, Hiro-san," Kitsune shrugged. "Obviously no one can replace your mother, but he doesn't deserve to live alone for the rest of his life. He has millennia ahead of him, still."

"That's - " Histugaya began, but stalled. "Karu-chan's mother has never sought anyone else."

"Hikaru-dono's mother also literally shared a soul with her father," Kitsune pointed out. "And even so, she is very lonely; no matter how hard she denies it. If anything, Kuchiki Oujotaicho is the exception that proves the rule."

Hitsugaya exhaled with conflicted feelings. "I know, but... but that's not really the issue. I suppose if I wasn't such a faint-hearted moronic wuss, I could get used to the idea of Father seeing someone else, but this is far more complicated."

Kitsune's expression twisted into skepticism. "How so?" _This_ he wanted to hear. Most likely his friend was exaggerating the severity of the problem, as he usually did.

"You have to swear to tell no one."

"Why?"

"Swear first, and then I'll tell you."

"Alright, Hiro-kun, I swear."

"On your father's sword, Kit-kun, I'm not kidding."

Kitsune rolled his eyes. This was not the first time he had been asked to make such a drastic oath for silly reasons. "Fine, fine; I swear on my father's sword, Hiro-kun, that I will not tell a soul."

Makahiro hesitated. "Father has... he has - ugh, how do I say this?"

"Say what, Hiro-kun? You have to get this out, it's eating you alive."

Hitsugaya couldn't hold it in anymore. He exploded in frustration. "My dad has been dating a hollow, Kitsune-kun. For like, well over ten years, at least. Probably as long as fifty, even."

Kitsune's eyes went wide with doubt. "A hollow? That's preposterous."

"Well, not just _any_ hollow."

Komamura was beginning to wonder if this time, his oath had been taken in good reason. "Why? Who could he possibly be involved with?"

Makahiro grimaced. "The King of Hueco Mundo."

_"What ! ?"_

-:-

"Where are we going?"

[You have the patience of a walnut.]

"Is that better or worse than a poppy seed?"

[A poppy seed is worse. A walnut is less than a cashew, though.]

"You use the strangest metaphors."

[Different language,] she shrugged, [different expressions.]

"Does a macademia nut fit into this sliding scale?"

[It's at the high end. You have yet to achieve the zen-like stillness of a macadamia nut's patience.]

"You're enjoying this little mystery, aren't you?"

Hikaru smiled wide in order to mock him. [Of course.]

Vojiro shrugged. "Where are we anyway?"

She patiently signed the name, letter by letter. [78th District - 'Inazuri'.]

"Nice place. To think that a place named 'Howling Dog' would be so pleasant. Especially for somewhere so far from Sereitei."

[It was where my mother grew up with Renji-san. The Kuchiki family has invested a lot to rejuvenate it in her honor.]

Vojiro was a touch surprised. He knew from Hikaru that Kuchiki Oujotaicho had been adopted from the Rukongai because her natural sister had married Kuchiki Oujitaicho, but he did not know much about the details. "Well, they've done a nice job."

[Kurosakis never go half way,] she smirked, [and mother is about as much Kurosaki as she is Kuchiki.]

"So I've heard," he shrugged. "Okaasama met him a couple of times. Said he was really headstrong. Coming from my mother, that's saying something."

[Where else do you think I get it from?]

He laughed. "That's for sure."

[You still see Lulu?]

"Yeah, she's here," Vojiro pointed up in the air at the bat that was flying overhead. It had been his turn to babysit today. Sarashina had been called in by the 2nd for a reiatsu seal; the 5th division fukutaicho had been off somewhere doing nobody knows what. She was like that sometimes. "She's pretty good, she doesn't like to be out on her own. I keep a close eye on her. If I lose her, forget Okaasama and Otousan - Sarashina-chan will Raiden my ass into oblivion." His sister's sigma zanpakutou was, in its wielder's hands, completely useless in sealed form. Sarashina couldn't fight with her pewter stiletto at all. In shikai form, though, forget it. That quarterstaff would be raining down lightning bolts on him enough to make him glow until next week.

[I still can't get used to it,] Hikaru signed with bewilderment. [I mean, Zari-chan can turn into a cat, but somehow that seems so much more normal.]

"I think Lulu just likes being able to pee on people's heads, if you ask me."

[Charming, V-kun, just charming,] she signed sarcastically. She never bothered signing his name anymore; it took too long to spell out the foreign letters.

He laughed. "C'mon, I know you prefer me just the way I am," he laughed, catching himself and substituting the word 'prefer' for something else that may have been more... confessional.

[On occasion,] she signed cautiously, detecting his near foray into the overtly flirtatious.

Hikaru was still hesitant to accept that Vojiro had anything more than friendly, platonic interest. Someone with his looks could get anyone he wanted, and Hikaru was skeptical that Vo had really set his eyes on her. Although Hikaru knew it was ludicrous, she somehow always feared that Vojiro was using her as an avenue to learn more about Hisako, who was every boy's dream. Considering how most boys treated Hikaru - like crap - it was too hard not to let the fear hover over her. Anxiously and unconsciously, she shifted the violin case over her shoulder, trying to keep it from chafing against her extra-long nodachi that was hanging across her back.

That didn't even begin to address what Vojiro would think if he found out about her condition. Obviously, he was aware of her plain figure, but she was sure that he assumed there was something... "feminately compatible" underneath her shinigami uniform. If he ever made any transparent advances, she would need to seriously consider how she would tell him - and that was assuming she could even confess to wearing a padded bra without dying of soul-crushing embarassment. For right now, any mention of it at all was premature.

Hikaru could very well opt for surgery and thus he wouldn't have to make the decision - but she really wasn't there yet. Hell, she didn't know where she was at all when it came to this issue.

"Where are we going?"

[It's a secret,] she signed with some serious gesticulation, glad that he had backed off a bit. The only person she had told so far was her younger brother, Sado-kun. She needed to bring _someone_ along, otherwise she never would have been able to communicate. Even with her textable phone, a lot of the people here couldn't read; so she couldn't just type things out for people who didn't speak sign language.

"How much longer is this going to take?" he asked. "And doesn't your captain need you to, I don't know, help run your division or something?"

[I told Kiyone Taicho I was taking today off. I dumped my work on the other upper seats. A little extra paperwork won't kill them.]

"I dunno, it kills me," Vojiro sighed. It was his day off, too; but that was part of his regular weekly rotation.

[That's because Hitsugaya Taicho has been doing all the paperwork for centuries by himself,] she signed with humorous intent. The inability to produce a sound when laughing gave most people the creeps, so Hikaru tended to avoid laughing when she could. [He finally got someone who will actually help him with it, so he's making up for all the free time he lost.]

"Yeah, well, I don't like doing paperwork either," Vojiro grumbled. "The only reason I do it is because I'm sure he'd tell my mother to beat my ass if I didn't."

[Momma's boy,] she chided.

"Daddy's girl," he shot back.

[Speaking of which, we're here.]

"Huh?" Vojiro asked suddenly. That was a very unusual segue.

The auburn vice captain of the 13th knocked on the door to a wooden townhouse. It was modest but not in disrepair - much like the standard housing for much of the district, which was poor but clean and relatively safe. It was lower class housing by Rukongai standards, but not anything like the truly poverty-stricken districts, where the lucky ones had canvas tents and the unlucky ones had nothing at all.

A small, filthy boy with a shaved head answered the door. He wore a thin, threadbare brown tunic; the standard garment of the inner-city poor - but it was free of holes and fit well. The boy didn't look hungry or starved, either. "Oh, it's you," he said rudely to Hikaru. "Who's the fop?"

"Hey!" Vojiro frowned.

Hikaru just shrugged. Very, very few here could understand sign language, so she signed to Vojiro. [Tell them you're my translator.]

Vojiro did so, and the bald boy shrugged. "Whatever. Hey, Okaachan - Shinigami-chan is here. She brought some other shinigami with her."

"Let them in," came a woman's voice. "And set the table for company. Oh, and tell everyone to wash up, please. You too."

"Renaldo and Henry better help! And if Jackie complains about having to watch Oksana, I'm telling her to stuff it!" the boy yelled with disinterest.

"_No,_ you'll tell her to _come to me_, Dario," the voice within insisted firmly.

"Whatever," the boy shrugged. "C'mon in, shinigami."

Hikaru gestured for Vojiro to go ahead. He waited for Lulu to park herself in the eaves of the house, and then he gave her a stern look to tell her to stay put. Lulu chittered back an "I'm taking a nap," which even Vojiro could barely decipher.

Vojiro entered reluctantly, not sure what to expect. Inside, the tiny house was a single room with three double-decker bunk beds lining the wall, totalling six. It was clean, and appeared to be well-maintained - the ceiling was plastered, which was something rare in outer districts. It indicated that, however humble this abode was, someone had invested in it to make sure it didn't have a leaky roof. It was something Vojiro had never really had to think about before. He also noticed that the beds had thin mattresses - a far cry from real comfort but infinitely better than loose straw that he had seen in other districts this far out.

Close to one wall was a small table, suitable for maybe four adults to sit at. A curtain lined a corner where Vojiro assumed they had the chamber pot. In the center of the room, a simple wood stove with an exhaust pipe out the ceiling was the main attraction. It provided a cozy warmth to the small room. A starkly beautiful woman was standing over it, cooking a pot of something that smelled amazing.

The Banzo prince carefully studied her. She was relatively tall, with angular lines and long, flowing orange hair. The darkest of its strands were still lighter than Hikaru's brightest copper highlights. She was dressed in simple brown hemp worker's pants and a matching, loose, short-sleeved cotton shirt. They were peasant's clothes, but they were spotless and in good condition. Vojiro noted that, compared to others he had seen in the district, the woman was dressed rather well. Hemp and cotton were relative luxuries here; most clothing was linen or canvas. "Welcome," she said warmly, her Japanese intonation immediately bespeaking of someone who was well-educated. Vojiro was either easily fooled, or this woman was not the average Rukongai citizen. "Dinner will be ready in just a minute. Henry, is the table set?"

"Not yet, Ma," a boy answered, weaving around his older and younger sister. The former (if Vojiro remembered correctly, Jackie) was trying to keep the latter (Oksana?) from crying.

Vojiro tried to be polite. He had no idea what peasant customs were, but his mother had drilled into him that his noble roots weren't worth a bucket of warm urine in someone else's home, so he treated the mistress of this humble house as though she was the Queen of the Kingdom. "Please allow me to introduce ourselves, I am Banzo Vojiro, vice captain of the 10th division in the Gotei 13. This young woman is - "

"Kuchiki Hikaru-dono, vice captain of the 13th," the woman interrupted with a chuckling smile. "I know who you both are."

Vojiro felt a bit dumb. He was not used to it - he tended to be smoother than this. "Oh, excuse me, then; my apologies. And you are?"

[Ako Masaki,] Hikaru signed the letters swiftly with an amused smile. It had taken a while, but Hikaru had found the first of them. [My grandmother.]

-:-

The indignity of jail was revolting to him. Where he had once dined on the finest caviar and wagyu beef, he was now being fed tepid water and overcooked rice with undercooked peas and unripe broccoli that came from a shutterhole in the back wall. His outrage at being unjustly locked up infuriated him, and when he finally got to speak to a lawyer, he was going to make sure that whoever that uglier-than-a-pug lieutenant was, she was going to pay for it many times over.

The click of the cell block door got Sheldon's attention, and he perked up. "It's about time!"

_"Yes, it certainly is,"_ a sinister voice slithered out of his range of vision. He came over to the bars to find the most horrible monster of a face staring back at him. He couldn't really tell whether the shinigami was a man or a woman, but his new company shocked him into jumping back towards the back wall of his cell, not wanting to be any closer than necessary.

The bald head was rippled with stitched scars that traced down the face. The eyes were mismatched, with one just slightly smaller than the other and ominously glowing a lighter shade of fecal brown. Surrounding both eyes was a grotesque patchwork of lumpy, red flesh that had been scratched at until it bled, and it was now covered in oozing scabs that leaked pus. The shinigami continued to compulsive scratch at it, an itch that could not be satisfied, ripping off the uncomfortable scabs and squeezing out the putrid contents within. When the infection was cleared, _it_ - for the pronouns 'he' or 'she' were not suitable to describe the visceral beastliness of the being in front of him - flicked the yellowish goo through the cells at him, splattering the rancid flecks onto Sheldon's cheek.

_"It has been nearly two centuries, Konoshima Subentara,"_ it noted, the voice a raspy imitation of a whetstone grinding away at an axe of bitter scorn. It was a sound that made him feel like he was sucking on the exhaust pipe of a deisel truck; a polluted, smoggy harshness that had a tangible terror, as though each word was a cockaroach that crawled into his ear and laid its eggs there. _"You and I - we have business to discuss."_

"Y-y-you know who I am?"

_"Of course I do - I've been looking for you,"_ it answered; the bloated, graying toungue licking the ghastly lips as though it was ready to feast on his innards. Its parsed, chapped, blistered, oozing lips curled into a razor smile that would scare Satan enough to run from his abode in Hell. _"Do you know who **I** am?"_

"N-n-n-no," he stuttered, nearly wetting himself as the monster unlocked the cell door and delicately stepped inside. As it approached, he could see that the approaching ghoul had live writhing maggots across half of its face, feasting on the necrotic flesh. The shinigami didn't even seem to notice as one burrowed under its eyelid.

_"Here,"_ it smiled as it drew its katana, _"they call me Hinamori the Cruel."_

With a diligence from another world, it bound him where he stood with some sort of paralyzing kido. The first thing it did was remove his eyelids with a surgical cut of its sword, forcing him to be unable to pull his eyes away from the living horror.

Then, it proceeded to break every bone in his body, starting with the individual digits in his fingers and toes. When it had accomplished everything shy of the hammer, stirrup and anvil inside each of his ears, it used bone repair kido until he was fully healed, then repeated the process. After it was done with a few cycles of that, it burned off sections of his skin and mutilated his genitals, stopping only to heal him so that he could live through it all over again.

The screaming did not stop for four hours - but only because he started choking when Hinamori needed a break to relieve itself by urinating directly into his mouth. To further humiliate him, it used his face to clean up after its monthly discharges. To remove the stain, Hinamori then opted to scour his face clean with acid, smiling with a sadistic lust as he was forced to look at its writhing, wriggling face of nightmares. The screaming then continued for another six hours as it inflicted further layers of suffering upon him, followed by healing phases that gave him abyssal pangs of fear instead of the slightest ounce of respite.

When the warden-on-call finally showed up the next morning, he couldn't explain how a seemingly unharmed prisoner had died with a look of such agony on his face.

-:-

Kuchiki Hisako was having a perfectly normal day until the strangest thing happened. As she was leading her division 6 unit out of a senkai gate, a human ran into her at full speed.

"Oof!" the young girl gasped as she got to her feet. "Ugh, where did you come from?"

"Oujosama!" one of the shinigami shouted, reaching to help her to her feet. With grace, she accepted his hand. The many other shinigami men were envious. The two women in the party were jealous. (That was how it was in the presence of Head Lieutenant Hisako the Supermodel.)

Hisako looked at the offending lummox. She must have been a teenager; how old that was in human years, Hisako did not know. What astounded her was that this short-haired, athletic girl - admittedly attractive, with a certain flair of sorts that bespoke of concrete self-confidence - could _see_ her. This random commoner human girl could see her. "You," Hisako ordered. "Who are you?"

Tamani looked with great surprise - possibly even fear - at the woman in black robes. This must have been a shinigami that Sora-kun was talking about. The woman was characteristically beautiful. She stood at about five and a half feet tall, with obsidian hair that was long and ramrod straight, even blacker than her onyx garb. Her deep indigo eyes were icy, cold, regal, uppity. She had a round, packed and bulging bust - covered with great modesty but impossible to hide its appeal from anyone's imagination - and possessed a tight, chiseled waist that even put Tamani's alluring figure in the shadows. She could have graced the cover of any modern fashion magazine.

Tabaki Tamani, though, was always attentive to detail; and what stuck out most were the two badges she wore, one on each arm. A brass one on the left arm had the kanji '6' etched in it, and her right arm bore a wooden badge with a skull and undifferentiated set of crossbones - a perfect match to Tamani's own.

With a nervous shiver, Tabaki Tamani removed the wooden batch from the latch at her hip and showed it to the woman. "Tabaki Tamani," she said as bravely as she could, holding out the badge defiantly towards the party of black-robed soldiers. She had no idea what the badge should mean, but it was her best guess as how she could garner some immediate respect.

Hisako herself stopped suddenly. What was this _human_ doing with a Death Last Standing badge? DLS was supposed to be the most elite of elite Shinigami extermination units. They were dispatched to deal with anything short of a vasto lorde, which was the captains' domain. Why did a _human_ have one of these? Had she stolen it off of a previous member of DLS? Hisako could not have even recall if there had ever even been an opportunity for a DLS badge to be pilfered. Assuming that a human would ever be able to steal one off of an elite shinigami. "Where did you get that, girl?"

Tamani didn't like the woman said the word 'girl'. She wasn't the type of person who let herself get pushed around, especially not by high school cheerleader queens. Any trace of anxiety was pushed out of the way by a sense of personal offense. "I don't have time for a history lesson right now, Pop Star," she spat back, thinking of the first demeaning thing she could that might actually stick. (It was lame and she knew it, but the haughty woman registered an affront, so Tamani figured it was good enough.) "I'm being chased by someone who can see you, too. You have to help me deal with him."

"Who are _you_ to make demands of _me_, petty stain? Do you know whom you are talking to, you impertinent runt?"

"Someone with a stick up her ass," Tamani answered rudely, not backing down at the woman's insult. Looking over her shoulder, she spotted him. "That's him," she said, pointing to a man in a gray suit. "Jonas, the Fallen Saint. He has plans to blow up this shopping mall with sixteen hundred pounds of C4 - all strapped around a dirty bomb that will then radiate this town into mutant freaks for a hundred years. Like it or not, I'm your ally," she bullshitted, hoping that the matching badges would back her up, "so you better deal with him - _now!_"

"Tch," Hisako sneered. She would have to teach this brat a lesson. "You slight my pride. I will teach you what that costs-"

"Kiss my ass and move, Sweet Cheeks," Tamani ordered, not caring about the gaping mouths of the other shinigami at her rudeness. "Save the pompous talk and impending threats for when you've proved me you can dispatch him."

With great haughty ire, Hisako leveled her Kuchiki Doom Stare at the human, and then pushed her aside with force, intending to teach this runt their difference in power. She was surprised at how her shove accomplished very little. The human girl was clearly much stronger than she had initially assessed. Shifting her attention to the man, she withdrew Skyfire, preparing to give this supposed threat one last opportunity to surrender.

"Stop," she ordered to the man, who was quickly encroaching. "Surrender and be spared, or suffer death and humiliation."

The man paused, stopping suddenly. He studied her face with deep thought, studiously surveying her appearance. Slowly, he removed his sunglasses and studied her again. "...The King of Clubs," the man said - this Jonas, as the teenager had called him.

Hisako's eyes narrowed in contempt. "The King of Clubs?" _King?_ Does he think me a man? And how dare he associate me with some barbaric cudgel!

Jonas opened up his phone, taking a hard look at Tabaki. "The King of Clubs," he said into the phone. "Retreat!" With a look of contained rage that would live to fight another day, the man closed his phone and turned tail.

"What are you doing?" Tabaki shouted at the shinigami. "Go after him!"

Hisako sheathed her zanpakutou and turned her attention back to the human. "How dare you imagine yourself noble enough to order me like a common slave," she reviled. "I offered him a chance to spare his life. I will not go back on my word."

Tamani rolled her eyes. "You are one dumb chick."

Hisako seized Tabaki by the throat. "What did you call m-"

With dexterity even greater than Hisako, the teenager literally jack-sprinted up Kuchiki's torso. Grabbing Hisako's wristlock bone with both hands to pry it off her neck, Tamani thrust her foot high up into Hisako's chest, twisting her whole momentum so as to scale up Hisako's body while twisting, her jump arcing down onto the top of Hisako's tricep and shoulder. Painfully, Hisako was hurdled to the floor as the expert martial artist suddenly had the shinigami's face crouched to the floor, her arm twisted back painfully with the human's knee embedded on the back of her locked elbow.

"Oujosama!" her attendants shouted, and began to approach to save her, but stopped at their vice captain's command.

"Stop!" she barked at them. "Human - "

_"Tabaki,"_ the girl insisted. "Tabaki Tamani." I don't know where you come from, but you'll show me some respect.

"Tabaki," Hisako repeated with tried patience, not even deeming this audacious girl worthy of an honorific. _"Move."_

_"No."_

"Then I will hurl you into the heavens."

Tamani grit her teeth. "_No._ You'll stop foaming at the mouth over your damn wounded ego and start chasing an international terrorist whose sole existence is to eradicate the channel between Earth and Soul Society," Tamani answered. She hoped that what she said made sense. It made no sense to her, but if she remembered correctly, that was what Sora-kun had told her.

With seething ire, Hisako tugged in her arm, allowing the human to get away with her brazen insult. "Fine-"

"Hey, what are you sitting around for! ?" a young man chastised them, flashing to a stop. "He's getting away!"

Hisako was startled. _Another_ human? With _shunpo_? But -

"Shinigami!" the lanky, black-haired pencilneck ordered, flashing his copy of the wooden badge. "After him!"

Hisako was astounded. _Another_ Death Last Standing badge? Was someone giving them out as _trinkets_? Or worse - was there a secret cabal in the Gotei 13 that was conspiring to undermine the authority of Hisako and her unit? Hisako could not believe what she was seeing. Was her own Death Last Standing badge so worthless?

"Welcome to Karakura," Tamani laughed darkly at the dumbfounded imperial. Whoever you are, you snooty bitch, learn this: things are never quite so simple in the real world.

* * *

_-THE END-  
__...as all Endings are simply Beginnings by another name_


End file.
